


Tell Me I'm Not Wrong

by songsforfelurian



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, M/M, Plot With Porn, Porn with Feelings, Shiro is protective, canon compliant until the end of season 6, shiro and his clone both survive, the clone doesn't understand why he was saved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-07-29 13:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20083351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songsforfelurian/pseuds/songsforfelurian
Summary: “Why do you care about my state of mind? Why are you trying to make me feel better?”Shiro let the door slide open and guided his clone inside. He tapped at an identical panel on the inside wall, closing and sealing the door with his passcode. He met not-Shiro’s eye, let go of his wrist, and stepped closer to him, just to emphasize the fact that he perceived no threat.“Because you’re not responsible for what Haggar made you do. Because you protected them when I couldn’t. Because Keith and the black lion thought your life was worth saving, and I did too.”The clone shook his head. “Cocky,” he said. “Arrogant. You think I’m you, because I look like you. But I’m not.”“I know you’re not.” Shiro rested a hand on the clone’s upper arm, an impulse he didn’t have the energy to ignore. “But you’re someone.”...This fic begins almost immediately after Shiro's resurrection, except that Kuro also survives. Their shared and individual trauma might've been too much to bear if it weren't for the intense and inexplicable bond between them.





	1. You Need a Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thanks so much for checking out my first shirocest fic! I managed to get MOST of the story done, but there will be a couple of additional chapters after the last one posted here.
> 
> If you like the story, please leave a comment or drop me a line on Twitter to let me know!
> 
> @forfelurian
> 
> Art for this piece was completed by hvdra00 on Tumblr. Check out chapter 3 to see their lovely work!

Shiro woke up before the man that shared his face.

He blinked, manufactured eyelids fighting against a set of too-bright lights in another unfamiliar ceiling.

“Shiro.”

He turned his head toward the sound of his name – the name he’d been called, back when he’d still been a person.

He turned his head toward the voice that had called him back from the dead.

“Keith.”

Keith had been sitting, but he was standing now, hovering close, both hands braced on the edge of the table Shiro was laying on. He had a bandage covering most of the right side of his face, medical tape drawing a line underneath his eye that emphasized his dark lashes… and the fact that they were wet.

“Don’t try to sit up,” Keith said. “Allura said you should rest as much as you can.” If he’d been crying, his voice betrayed no sign of it. It never did, Shiro knew. He’d seen Keith cry, but he’d never heard him admit to it happening. 

“Where are we?”

“Marmoran base. Former, by the looks of it. Abandoned for about a month.”

Shiro felt saliva pooling uncomfortably around his tongue. He tilted his chin up, sending it toward the back of his throat, but it only pooled there instead. He felt a flicker of panic. The reflex hadn’t kicked in. 

_ Swallow- swallow- swallow- _

“Shiro?”

He sat up so quickly his head spun, adding to the disorientation. He felt a hand on his shoulder, then a jolt of an ache there: the focused pressure of Keith’s fingertips digging into the muscle-

He finally,  _ finally  _ swallowed.

He met Keith’s eye.

“What happened? How am I  _ here _ ?”

Keith let go of his shoulder. He straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest, like he felt he needed to protect himself from something.

“The black lion… it saved me, and… the clone. The double we all thought was you. It also saved another one of the… _bodies. _Another clone from that facility. Allura said she couldn’t find any evidence of consciousness, so… she transferred _yours_…” He shook his head. “I know how it sounds, but you’re _alive._”

Shiro lifted his hands in front of his face. One was flesh-and-blood, with a device attached to his index finger and wrist- monitoring his vitals, he guessed.

The other was gray as slate, sleek and free from flaws or marks, perfect as the day it had been made. 

He wondered if the rest of this body looked the same as the one that used to belong to him. He knew he must still have a scar across his face – no one wearing this body could’ve passed for the  _ real  _ Shiro without it – but he wondered how specific the Galra had gotten with their design. He’d been cut in combat training as a cadet on Earth, earning himself a sliver of a scar on his rear, left thigh. Had they bothered to manufacture that, too? Did this body tell the story of a life it hadn’t lived through? Or was there tangible evidence that it didn’t belong to him?

He shivered. 

He met Keith’s eye again.

“The clone?” 

“He’s…” Keith’s gaze flickered to the right. “He’s here. In the healing pod we saved from the castle. He hasn’t woken up since…” Keith swallowed, his brow set in a hard line. “I wasn’t trying to  _ hurt  _ him. I was trying to subdue him. I was trying to bring him back. I… I thought he was  _ you _ .”

Shiro nodded. “He believed he  _ was  _ me. You did the right thing.”

“How do you know that?”

Shiro took a slow breath, letting his hands fall back into his lap. He flexed his feet under the blanket that was still covering the lower half of his body.

“I could sense him when he was piloting the black lion,” he said, trying to adjust to the organic  _ hum _ of air vibrating through his larynx. He’d been a disembodied entity for long enough that the sound and sensation were more than a little unnerving. 

He cleared his throat. 

He winced, noticing a flicker of anxious concern in Keith’s expression that reminded him, too late, of how carefully he used to control the configuration of his own features. 

“He didn’t seem aware that I was there,” he went on, “but I caught glimpses of his thoughts and emotions. He never suspected he wasn’t  _ me _ . The black lion protected him because  _ he  _ protected  _ you _ , for as long as he could, until… well, until he had no choice.”

Keith tilted his head to one side. “Explain that to me. I thought… well, he’s a clone. They  _ made _ him. I figured they  _ programmed  _ him or something-”

“No,” Shiro interrupted. “It wasn’t like that. He wasn’t…  _ corrupted.  _ I would’ve been able to tell. He must’ve been…  _ overtaken. _ ”

Keith nodded. “Allura would probably agree with you. The pod identified implants in his brain, almost like receivers. Allura said they would’ve made him susceptible to manipulation through quintessence. They’re totally separate from his anatomy. So maybe when they’re inert, he’s just…”

Shiro nodded. “Me.” He sighed a little. “Can we remove them?”

“Not without a surgical team. Olkarion would be our best bet, if we can get there. But the pod disabled the implants. Allura doesn’t think there’s any chance anyone could access them again.”

“He’ll need someone to explain that to him as soon as he wakes up.”

“Right. About that.” Keith uncrossed his arms and held them at his sides, palms facing out. “What should we  _ do _ , Shiro? He… he tried to…” He shook his head, biting back a frustrated sound. “They  _ forced  _ him to try to kill us. To kill  _ me. _ ”

Shiro let his gaze rest on Keith’s cheek. He’d known about the virus not-Shiro had set inside the Castle of Lions, because the black lion had known. He  _ hadn’t  _ known about his confrontation with Keith.

“He did that?” he asked, resisting the urge to reach up and touch the bandage on Keith's cheek.

Keith nodded. Shiro swallowed for the second time, too distracted to notice the small victory of his neuromuscular system behaving as it should. “Show me?”

Keith raised a hand to his cheek and peeled the bandage down from the top, revealing a long, triangular scar that began at the space under his earlobe and came to a point under the inner corner of his eye. The edges were strangely uniform, like a burn from a laser, or-

_ “Jesus,  _ Keith.” Shiro felt tendrils of nausea climbing up the back of his throat. “With his arm?”

Keith didn’t say anything. He just replaced the bandage, sealing the tape under his eye with a single fingertip, as if he were wiping away a tear.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said, on impulse. “It’s… I-”

“You’ll make yourself sick over it,” Keith said, cutting him off. “I know you will, no matter how many times I tell you it’s not your fault. He will too.”

Shiro nodded slowly. It wasn’t the sort of thing Keith would want to dwell on in the open space of a medical bay.

“Maybe he shouldn’t see you right away, when he wakes up.”

Keith’s jaw moved subtly. Shiro knew, from years of careful observation, that he was tracing the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue. He’d first noticed it on Keith’s first day as a cadet at the Garrison, and he’d seen him make the gesture countless times since then. There were several different things it could mean, but right now, Shiro knew it meant that Keith was suffering, awash in anxiety, and trying to figure out how to keep the distress from showing in his voice and his facial expression.

“I thought you might say that.” The subtle tension in Keith’s jaw remained, making his speech tight and clipped. “But he has to know… I have to  _ tell  _ him-”

“You’ll get a chance to do that. As soon as he’s ready to hear what you have to say.”

“And who’s going to determine that? You?”

“Keith.” Shiro reached over and rested his prosthetic hand lightly on Keith’s arm. He’d learned a long time ago that honesty went a long way with Keith, though he still struggled to let his own feelings show sometimes, especially when he wasn’t ready to confront them himself. “It’s really hard-” He stopped, cleared his throat, started over. “It’s  _ painful  _ for me to see you injured like that. I can imagine how he might feel if he thinks he’s responsible for it. He’ll be a lot more than just sick over it. I think you know that.”

Tension settled in Keith’s brow. He might’ve been suppressing a fit of rage. He might’ve been on the verge of tears.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” he said. He put his hand over Shiro’s, briefly, then crossed his arms over his chest again, forcing Shiro to let go. “I’ll send Allura back in. Just… let me know when he wakes up, okay?”

“I will. I promise.” Keith started for the door. Shiro’s stomach lurched; he scrambled for one of the countless things he’d been desperate to say for so long, but he came up short. “Keith? Hang on a second?”

Keith paused in the doorway, turning only partially in Shiro’s direction. Shiro shrugged a little.

“I was sure I’d never see you again, like this.”

Keith smiled for the first time. “You know how much I like proving you wrong.”

He left.

* * *

Shiro stayed in the medbay. 

He’d thought Keith might’ve tried to use his own argument against him. If not-Shiro might’ve been upset by seeing Keith when he woke up, seeing his own face staring back at him could bring about any number of disastrous consequences. Shiro knew this. 

He also knew he had no choice but to take the risk.

He was sitting at a rectangular table on the opposite side of the bay when it happened, letting Hunk coach him through the first few sips of water his new body had ever tried to swallow. He choked on the first couple of tries - an altogether unnerving experience, to have to wonder about all the things this body might  _ fail to do _ \- but he was in the midst of his third successful sip when an electronic tone drew his attention across the bay. 

Allura was there, standing at a console close to the healing pod. She’d been going back over the data the pod had collected thus far, searching for any further evidence that not-Shiro might pose some kind of threat… but she didn’t expect to find any, she’d assured Shiro, once she’d returned to the bay at Keith’s request. He was entirely human, as far as she could tell. Entirely  _ Shiro. _

Except that he wasn’t.

“Shiro,” Allura called from across the bay. “The pod’s about to-”

The end of the thought was drowned out by the pneumatic  _ hiss _ of the pod depressurizing itself. The release sequence triggered automatically as soon as the scanners inside the pod determined that the person inside it was fully healed.

The notion was laughable, in this case. The damage done here ran much deeper than physical injury, and that was why Shiro found himself standing between Allura and the pod, slipping into a defensive stance much more reflexively than his new body had done anything else so far. He didn’t pause to consider just how unnerving that notion was, too.

“Get a little distance here, Allura.” It wasn’t a request. Shiro might’ve expected her to balk at the tone under different circumstances, but instead she chose to go stand with Hunk on the other side of the room, taking hold of Hunk’s arm just as the forcefield dispersed, granting the person inside the pod access to the outside world.

Not-Shiro sat up, blinking, looking drowsy. Shiro tried to capitalize on his fatigue, speaking quickly, his voice firm and even.

“You’re safe. You’re at a Marmoran base-”

He was flat on his back before he could finish the thought. Not-Shiro had fully  _ leapt  _ from the pod and brought him to the floor with the weight of his whole body… but Shiro had been prepared for this eventuality. Not-Shiro was missing an arm, where  _ Shiro  _ had two, and he easily reversed their positions, pinning the clone to the floor with his only wrist held over his head. Shiro clasped his human hand over the clone’s throat, firm enough to  _ warn,  _ not to  _ wound,  _ trying to ignore the fact that the person underneath him was  _ wearing his face _ , his features twisted with rage and confusion.

“You’re  _ safe, _ ” Shiro repeated. “You’re-”

“Fuck you,” the clone spat. “You think I want to be  _ safe _ ? You think I give a single  _ fuck  _ about whatever sick game that witch is playing? She better kill me quick if she wants to keep her polluted blood in her body.” He spat in Shiro’s face. “You can tell her that, or you can kill me yourself.” Some of the tension left the clone’s frame; his wrist went slack in Shiro’s hold. “Go on,” he said, much more softly. “I know what that arm can do, and you know I’d kill you if I got half a chance.” He swallowed, features resolving into an expression that Shiro found horrifyingly familiar:  _ resignation. _ “Take the win,” he finished, his voice barely loud enough to vibrate against Shiro’s hand.

Shiro resisted the urge to vomit, for any number of reasons. He had anticipated that the clone might make this set of assumptions, but he hadn’t followed the thought through to this particular conclusion. He needed to remember that this person wasn’t  _ him _ , that their divergent experiences had brought them down drastically different paths. 

He’d thought he could anticipate what the man underneath him might think or feel.

That had been a mistake.

“I’m not a clone,” Shiro said, hearing the quaver in his own voice. He had just enough energy to hold not-Shiro down against the floor, and very little leftover to try to control the flood of emotion that was threatening to break him apart. “You’re on a Marmoran base. Everyone on the team is alive. Keith and the black lion saved your life, and the witch can’t control you anymore.”

Not-Shiro stared up at him. A small crease appeared at the center of his brow.

“They’re alive?”

“All of them,” Shiro confirmed, feeling sick down to his marrow, wishing he could wipe the saliva from his face.

“But…” Not-Shiro glared, shaking his head. The tension in his wrist returned. “No. I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to-”

“Shiro?” 

That was Allura, standing somewhere close, never one to exercise caution when someone else was in distress. Shiro watched the clone’s eyes go wide as she stepped into his field of vision, watched his lower lip start to tremble, watched tears start to spill from the corners of his eyes. He loosened his hold on the clone’s wrist-

_ “No.”  _ His double was pleading now, his voice thick and watery. “Are you out of your mind? You have to keep me restrained.”

Shiro shook his head. “I told you. She can’t control you anymore-”

“Do  _ not _ let me up.” The tone of his voice sank down to a low growl, even as he wept, the vibration an angry buzz against Shiro’s palm, where he was still holding his throat. “I do  _ not  _ accept that risk. I took you down with one arm. Don’t try to find out what could happen if you let me loose.” He glanced around the room, almost frantically. “You need to lock me up, or something.  _ Now.  _ Right fucking now-!”

“Okay,” Shiro conceded, shaken. The person underneath him was losing his grip, his voice painfully familiar, the tone of it startlingly foreign. Now was not the time to argue the finer points of what had happened over the last twenty-four hours. “I’ll confine you to quarters.”

“Are they close?”

“Yeah. Just down the hall.”

Not-Shiro sniffed. He gave a tiny nod. “Make sure they keep their distance when you let me up.”

“Guys,” Shiro called, assuming Hunk was probably standing with Allura somewhere behind him. “Give us some room, okay?”

He was relieved when he heard them moving away without further comment. The clone could’ve easily spoken to them directly, but Shiro wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t. If their positions had been reversed, he would’ve found it impossible to cope with the weight of what he’d done, what he’d  _ tried  _ to do. Shiro had been rehearsing all of the things he could say to help his double believe that it hadn’t been his fault… but he was clearly in no state to hear it right now.

“I’m going to stand up now,” he said. “I’m going to keep holding your wrist so I can help you up, and then I’m going to escort you to your quarters.”

Another tiny nod. Shiro pulled his hand away from the clone’s throat, slid off of his body, and pulled him to his feet. He wiped the drying saliva from his face, gagging a bit as he did so. He secured not-Shiro’s wrist behind his back and moved behind him, resting a hand firmly on his opposite hip to guide him toward the exit. The clone kept his eyes on the floor, even as they moved past Hunk and Allura and headed into the hall. 

The set of living quarters Allura had designated for the team was on a perpendicular hallway, less than a minute’s walk away. This was a blessing; Shiro knew he’d be crawling out of his skin until he could get the clone stabilized, until he could get a quiet moment to think, until he could wash his  _ face _ -

“The rest of the team is staying on this hall?”

Shiro startled a little, fumbling the passcode he’d been typing onto a panel next to the door of not-Shiro’s quarters. He started over, using his non-dominant hand, since he still had the clone’s wrist locked tight in the grasp of his prosthetic one. He was less precise with his left, though not by much, given how much he’d practiced with it after he’d lost his arm… except he’d done that in a different body, hadn’t he? How had he retained the additional skill he’d acquired since he’d escaped from the Galra? How much did his consciousness, his  _ essence _ , impact the abilities of whatever vessel he might be occupying? Had his memories, his  _ being _ actually impacted the physicality of his motor cortex? Could he slip right back out of this body and still be  _ himself _ ? 

He shivered. The clone wasn’t the only one losing his grip.

“They are,” Shiro confirmed. “I’ll reprogram your door control so only I know the passcode. I’ll be able to lock you in from the inside and the outside. They’ll be safe, even if you get the drop on me in there.” He lifted his head, found his own steel-gray eyes staring back at him. “Not that you’ll try to. It’s completely unnecessary. I’m just trying to ease your mind.”

“Why?” not-Shiro asked. His tears had stopped, and his breathing was slow and even now. The question was startlingly sincere. Shiro wondered if he might actually be succeeding at putting him at ease.

“ _ Why _ , what?”

The clone shrugged a little. “Why do you care about my state of mind? Why are you trying to make me  _ feel _ better?”

Shiro let the door slide open and guided him inside, trying to figure out how to answer. He tapped at an identical panel on the inside wall, closing and sealing the door with his passcode. He met not-Shiro’s eye, let go of his wrist, and stepped closer to him, just to emphasize the fact that he perceived no threat.

“Because you’re not responsible for what Haggar made you do,” he said, pleased to find that his voice held steady. “Because you protected them when I couldn’t. Because Keith and the black lion thought your life was worth saving, and I did too.”

The clone shook his head. “Cocky,” he said. “Arrogant. You think I’m  _ you _ , because I look like you. But I’m not.”

“I know you’re not.” Shiro rested a hand on the clone’s upper arm, an impulse he didn’t have the energy to ignore. “But you’re  _ someone. _ ”

The clone looked at the floor, his expression twisting into something dark and miserable before it went neutral again. He didn’t respond. Shiro  _ squeezed, _ hoping he might find the pressure comforting. 

“Hey,” he prodded, keeping his voice quiet. “Allura figured out how Haggar did it. There were implants. The pod disabled them, and  _ everything  _ else about you is human, so…” He cleared his throat, unnerved by the lack of response. “Speaking of,” he ventured, “why don’t I go grab some food-”

_ “No.”  _ The clone’s eyes were still on the floor, but his hand had shot up to grasp Shiro’s forearm. “You can’t go.”

Shiro stared, startled by the show of vulnerability, unable to guess at what that statement was meant to imply. He licked his lips, feeling warm around the collar of his t-shirt, suddenly very aware of how  _ close  _ the two of them were, physically, and-

“Okay,” he said, interrupting his own train of thought. “I won’t. Let me message Hunk. He can bring some things down.”

The clone let his hand fall back to his side.

“Keith?” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

“He’s fine. He visited you. He’ll be glad to see you, whenever you’re ready.”

Not-Shiro met his eye. 

“I’m not.”

“I know.” Shiro let his hand slide down from the clone’s upper arm to his elbow- another impulsive gesture, entirely unplanned. “It’s all right. There’s no rush.”

The clone’s eyes traveled over his face, his gaze settling at his hairline, the crease of his brow resolving into something softer.

“Your hair,” he said. “Did the Galra do something to you?”

Shiro let go of his arm and swiped his hand reflexively through his silver-white fringe. Allura had brought him a mirror and talked him through the specifics of his resurrection. She’d tried to give him some time and space to process the difference in his appearance, and he’d appreciated the gesture, but he was nowhere near ready to sift through the emotional turmoil that had come crashing down around his ears when he’d seen his reflection.

He considered the clone’s question, wondering how honest he should be, promptly realizing that  _ perfectly _ was the only feasible answer. He doubted it would serve any purpose to be evasive with someone who’d be able to call him on it immediately.

“Do you remember fighting Zarkon in the black lion?” he asked.

“Mm. I remember it hurt like hell.”

“Yeah. It did. I…” Shiro swallowed. “I didn’t make it out of that fight. I died in that cockpit. I-”

He stopped, startled by the emotions that flickered across his double’s face: concern, regret,  _ pain _ . He’d intended to forge ahead, to finish the story, to avoid dealing with the reality of the statement he’d just uttered: 

_ I died, I died, I died… _

He was being embraced, he realized, when the clone’s chin settled onto his shoulder. He was being held by a single arm. There was a single hand splayed firmly between his shoulder blades, and there was breath catching in the chest that was pressed against his own. There was an anguished sound being stifled, somewhere close to his ear. 

He was being mourned.

He was mourning.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears came anyway.

The man who shared his face held him while his shoulders shook- while the two of them shook  _ together _ .

_ “You need a name,”  _ Shiro whispered, between almost-silent sobs.

_ “No.”  _ The hand between his shoulder blades tightened into a fist, grasping at his shirt.  _ “I don’t want one.” _

_ “I don’t care.”  _ Shiro held on tight, desperate to be anchored, feeling like he’d fall right out of the world again if he let go.  _ “I’ll give you one anyway.” _

  
  



	2. I Need It to Be You

Shiro could tell something had shifted in his double when they finally pulled away from each other. His posture was less tense, his eyes more focused, though they were rimmed with red from crying, his cheeks pink and puffy from the intensity of it. Shiro found it oddly comforting, seeing his own emotions mirrored back to him like that. He’d been evading self-pity for half his life - had become an expert in the art of refusing to feel sorry for himself - but seeing his double suffering on his behalf… it was like being granted permission to acknowledge what he’d been through.

It was even more than that, too. There was someone else alive in the world who  _ knew  _ what he’d been through. Someone he didn’t have to explain himself to. The outpouring of emotion had been more than just  _ pain.  _ He felt like he’d be saving himself, if he could save the person in front of him.

He felt like he  _ had  _ to. Like it was the most important thing he’d ever had to do.

“I’m sorry about your face,” the clone said, eyes focused on Shiro’s right cheek, where his saliva had landed.

“It’s all right.”

“It’s not. You don’t have to pretend that it is.”

The clone walked to the back right corner of the room, where an open door frame presumably led to the bathroom. Shiro took the opportunity to take stock of the living quarters, assuming his own must be identical, though he hadn’t actually been to see them yet. The room was sparse, though the furniture was oversized, including the bed- appropriate, given that (almost) all of the Blades were Galra, many of them whole feet taller and twice as wide as the average human. There was a large viewscreen embedded in the wall opposite the bed next to a rectangular table and chairs. Allura had told Shiro that Coran and Romelle had stocked the wardrobes in all of their rooms with clothing: basic sets of shirts and pants that Pidge had been able to modify using some of the tech in the base’s engineering lab.

Not-Shiro emerged from the bathroom holding a towel. He approached Shiro without preamble, raised the cloth to his cheek, and wiped gently at the offending spot. It was as good as clean already from when Shiro had wiped at it earlier with the back of his hand, but  _ yes _ , he’d been dying to wash his face, and  _ no _ , for some reason he couldn’t readily identify, he wasn’t going to stop his double from doing it for him.

Maybe it was because it saved him a trip in front of the mirror. (Had the clone anticipated that?)

Maybe it was because he knew his double would be looking for ways to atone, and he meant to help with that process however he was able.

Maybe it was because he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be touched, and it felt easy, just now, to let it happen.

“I wouldn’t have done that if I’d known it was you,” the clone said, dabbing slowly at the corner of Shiro’s mouth. The cloth was cooling, but Shiro didn’t mind. “I guess you know that already, though.”

Shiro nodded. “I do know.”

“You can take a swing at me, if you want.”

“And mark up that pretty face?” Shiro arranged his mouth in what he hoped was a teasing smile. “Not a chance.”

The clone’s eyes flickered to his, just for a moment. Shiro found that he couldn’t read his expression, which struck him as odd until he realized that most people didn’t routinely stare at themselves in the mirror, analyzing how their own faces portrayed emotion. He certainly never had.

“So… you died,” the clone paraphrased, prompting Shiro to finish the story. Shiro breathed a small sigh, trying to think of the most concise way to explain what had happened.

“The black lion kept me alive,” he said. “My… essence? I was trapped in the black lion’s consciousness. It saved one of the other clone bodies from the facility when it came to save you and Keith, and then Allura moved my consciousness from the black lion into that body. Or…  _ this  _ body, I guess.”

The clone frowned. “But why bother…” He shook his head a little. “I was as good as dead already. You could’ve just…”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “What? Taken your place?”

“I’m the one who took  _ your  _ place. I was never supposed to be here.”

“You were. You  _ are _ . The black lion could’ve left you to die in open space-”

“It had no choice, Keith wouldn’t let  _ go _ -”

“I know,” Shiro said, a little more firmly. “Keith knows you’re supposed to be here just as well as I do.”

Not-Shiro’s brow softened a little at that. He offered no further argument.

Instead, he pulled the towel away from Shiro’s face, folded it in half (a little clumsily, with his single, non-dominant hand), and pressed the clean side over one of Shiro's eyes. It was exactly what Shiro would’ve done himself, to soothe the ache and calm the redness there. He lifted his hand and took hold of his double’s wrist, pulling gently to increase the pressure, which would’ve been difficult for him to gauge. He closed his other eye, breath filling his lungs slowly as the sensation chased some of the tension from his shoulders. When he let go, the clone moved the towel to his other eye and repeated the process, landing on the optimal amount of pressure on the first try this time. He held steady for a long moment, then let the cloth run gently over both of Shiro’s eyebrows- just like Shiro was hoping he would.

Shiro opened his eyes. He took the cloth, turned it over, and did what the clone had just done for him: put pressure on each of his double’s eyes in turn, wiping gently at his tear-stained cheeks in between. He knew the clone was watching him closely, probably studying his face. He couldn’t help but do the same. His gaze kept settling on his double’s eyelashes: jet-black and glossy, where his own were silver now. It occurred to him for the first time that the clone looked more like himself than he did- than he ever would again. He guessed the notion might hit him hard later, once he wasn’t so preoccupied with the task of learning to  _ exist in the world  _ alongside this very wounded, surprisingly gentle second version of himself.

“You didn’t have to do that,” the clone said, once Shiro had pulled his hand away.

“Neither did you.”

The clone tilted his head, and Shiro  _ did  _ recognize that gesture.  _ Confusion. Curiosity.  _ His double didn’t say anything though. Shiro could only guess at what was happening inside his mind; he’d already vowed not to push him too hard or too far, unless he felt he had no other choice.

“You should change,” he finally said, breaking the silence that had gone on a beat too long, drawing attention to the fact that the clone was still wearing a set of black under-armor. It was singed, torn, and blood-stained in places, though the injuries underneath had presumably healed. Keith and Allura had removed his amor before they’d put him inside the pod, but they hadn’t wanted to spare the time to find him an additional change of clothes, concerned as they’d been about the severity of his injuries. “There should be clothes for you in the wardrobe, so…”

The clone only went on watching him, so Shiro let the sentence go and moved to the back of the room himself, searching the shelves of the wardrobe until he found a t-shirt, a pair of thin undershorts, and a pair of long pants with a drawstring. They were basically identical to what Shiro was wearing himself, except that someone had had the presence of mind to assign Shiro black clothing, while the clone’s pieces were a medium gray. The material was soft, pleasant to the touch. 

Shiro brought the pile of clothing back to the center of the room, where the clone looked a little lost, standing still with his only set of fingers curled around the hem of his shirt.  _ Right.  _ Shiro had never actually  _ had  _ to dress or undress with a single arm. He guessed his double hadn’t either.

“It’s all right,” he said. “You’ll figure it out eventually. I can help for now, if you’d like.”

The clone leveled him with that same curious stare before he gave a small nod.

Shiro set the pile of clothing down on the table and then took hold of his double’s wrist, tugging up on his shirt sleeve to free his arm from the fabric. He pulled up on the hem, letting the body of the shirt pool around the clone’s shoulders so he could get his hands underneath and inside the neckline. He pulled it over the clone’s head in a fluid motion, protecting his face with the spread of his fingers. He let his gaze linger on the clone’s naked torso a little longer than he meant to, startled to see his own collection of scars etched across someone else’s skin. When he finally looked up, the expression on his double’s face made him pause, suddenly self-conscious.

“Everything okay?” Shiro prompted, folding the discarded undershirt, setting it down on the table. He picked up the clean t-shirt and spread the neckline with his hands.

“Why are you…” The clone cleared his throat. “You don’t have to be so…” He shook his head a little. “Nevermind. It’s just so-”

“We can’t talk about how weird it is,” Shiro interrupted. “I’ll lose my fucking mind if we do.” He scrutinized the clone’s expression again, surprised at how docile he’d become in only a few minutes. “Look, I don’t have to do this. I’m sure you could do it on your own, or I could ask Hunk or Coran-”

“No,” his double said. “You can’t go.” He frowned, like he’d realized he’d just repeated himself, or that the statement didn’t quite fit the context. “I meant… I need it to be you.”

Shiro raised his eyebrows.  _ Docile _ might not have been the right word to choose.  _ Compliant _ , maybe, but  _ intense.  _

_ I need it to be you. _

He couldn’t picture himself uttering those particular words to  _ anyone _ , even if he might’ve thought them, even if they might’ve been true.

He spread the neckline of the gray shirt as far as it would stretch and maneuvered it down over his double’s face, trying not to let it catch-

“ _ That, _ ” the clone said, with emphasis. “That thing you’re doing with your hands. I remember how you used to be, with... I mean, back before you left for Kerberos you would-” He made a frustrated sound. “You’re being so… careful,” he finally said, shifting his weight between his feet while Shiro guided his single arm through the sleeve.

“Would you rather I not be?”

“No. That’s not what I meant. It’s just… I know how long it’s been since you… did something like this.” He was looking at the floor now, his face changing over from pink to red at the highest point of his cheekbones. “I’m sure these weren’t the circumstances…”

Shiro shrugged, determined to stave off the potential awkwardness. This person had exactly  _ no  _ stake in maintaining his corporeal existence. Shiro might’ve been the only thing keeping him from finding the nearest airlock and tossing himself out of it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I mean, it’s basically like undressing myself, isn’t it?”

“ _ No. _ ” The clone was emphatic again, still staring at the floor. “It’s really, really not.”

Shiro nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll try to give you some privacy then.” He took the pants and shorts from the table and pooled them on the floor with the legs spread open so his double could step right into them. “You should be able to do the rest yourself, right? You can try anyway.” He straightened up and turned his back to face the opposite wall.

“You sure you want me out of your line of sight?”

Shiro sighed. In another time and place, it could’ve been a jest, but he knew he needed to take such comments seriously.

“I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Shiro swallowed the argument that wanted to leap out of his mouth. The clone wasn’t going to take his word for it. He wouldn’t have either.

He tapped at the sleek, black device that was clasped around his left wrist instead. Keith and Pidge had set up these communicators - routinely used by the Blades - as a way for everyone on the team to stay connected and share data, even when the paladins weren’t wearing their armor. Shiro managed to get the touch pattern correct on the first try, activating a holographic display that hovered above his wrist. He started tapping at that instead.

“What are you doing?” the clone asked.

“I’m having the data from the healing pod sent to the viewscreen in this room. You can review it for yourself. The implants Haggar exploited to control you are inert now. There’s no more door for her to walk through.” He finished executing the commands, dismissed the display, and turned around, pleased to find that his double had dressed the lower half of his body with relative success. “Your mind is your own,” he said. “I promise.” He brought his hands up to straighten the waistband of the clone’s pants over his right hip, where it would’ve been difficult for him to reach. He ignored the ever-growing blush in his double’s cheeks and absolutely  _ did not acknowledge _ the heat in his own. He also ignored the tiny sound his double made when his fingertips accidentally brushed against bare skin as he set the clothing in place. 

He turned the clone to face the viewscreen, activating it with a tap of his index finger. Allura’s notes, along with actual scans and readings from the pod, sprang into life in front of them. The clone’s face remained neutral, but he took a step forward and raised his hand to zoom in on one of the scans. Shiro was pleased that he showed any interest at all; he had to believe it meant that his double hadn’t given up entirely.

He put the clone’s damaged clothing inside the wardrobe near the foot of the bed and then sat down in one of the chairs to scroll through his pending messages, his stomach twisting a bit when he saw a whole series of them from Keith.

Keith: Shiro?

Keith: Allura said there was some kind of altercation. Are you okay?

Keith: Is he okay?

Keith: Please acknowledge.

Allura had sent a similar request for a status update. He messaged the entire team at once:

Shiro: I’ve confined him to quarters. He’s compliant. I’ll be staying with him until further notice.

He replied to Keith next:

Shiro: Sorry for the delay. We’re both okay right now. He asked about you, but he’s not ready to talk to anyone yet. I’ll let you know more when I can.

And then he sent a quick message off to Hunk:

Shiro: Can you bring some food and water to his quarters? A couple datapads would be great too.

Not-Shiro’s eyes were on him when he dismissed the display.

“Letting them know I didn’t kill you yet?”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. There was a hint of a smile playing at the corner of the clone’s mouth. He was  _ teasing. _

“Just getting my affairs in order,” Shiro deadpanned. “Think I’ll be dead by daybreak?”

“Mm. I’m down a limb. Might need a couple extra hours.”

“By all means, take your time.”

The clone let out a tiny exhale through his nose, tension curling up the corners of his mouth for the briefest instant: subtle, barely-there laughter.

“Speaking of daybreak,” he said, “did anyone set a clock rotation yet?”

“Yeah. Here… I can connect your screen back to the team’s system-”

“No.” The clone’s voice was quiet, his tone firm, but not frantic. “Not yet. Don’t give me access to anything important until I’m… sure.”

Shiro nodded. “Fair enough.” He reactivated his own display and started tapping at it. “I can set the screen to display the clock, at least. It’s coming up on dinnertime. I asked Hunk to bring some food by.” He glanced at his double, who was focused on the scans from the pod again. “Think you might want to say hello to him?”

The clone shook his head, eyes locked on the screen. He cleared his throat. “He’s okay, though? I mean… they’re really all right?”

“They are.” Shiro scrolled through the menus on his display, trying to think of a way to ease his double’s mind without bringing him into direct contact with the rest of the team. “Hey… I could give you access to their activity logs. You could see their locations on the map, and it would tell you how long it’s been since they logged into the system.”

The clone gave him a questioning look.

“You could check on them,” Shiro clarified. “Make sure they’re safe.” Shiro tapped a few more times, and then a square labeled “KEITH” appeared in the upper left hand corner of the viewscreen in the wall. There was a green circle next to his name, indicating that he’d logged into the system within the last hour. A rudimentary map of the floor they were on was displayed below; Keith was on another hallway, presumably in the room they’d designated for meals.

Not-Shiro stared at the display for a moment before he murmured, “Thank you.”

“Sure. Uh. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

The clone hesitated, then said, “Books? Wasn’t Pidge running all those Altean novels through the translator?”

“Was she? I can check the database-”

“Shit.” The clone had his hand by his side, palm facing out in Shiro’s direction. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that you wouldn’t… remember. Things that only happened to me, I mean.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Shiro tried to sound nonchalant, though he knew some part of him was deeply unsettled by the notion. “I actually do know about a lot of what happened.”

“You know whatever the black lion knew?”

“Yeah, and… I know everything  _ you  _ knew, whenever you were piloting.”

The clone frowned a little at this.

“Did you know what I was going to do?”

Shiro stood up from the table.

“No.”

“You swear?”

_ “Yes.” _ He stepped closer, aware that the clone found his physical presence comforting. “I didn’t know, because  _ you  _ didn’t know. I mean, I knew there must’ve been some reason the Galra sent you back to the team, but… you felt like  _ me.  _ When you were piloting…” He shrugged. “It was almost like I was back with them again. I don’t think I could’ve held on to who I was before, without you.”

The clone swallowed. “You’re telling the truth.”

“You’d know if I wasn’t.”

They stared at each other.

An electronic tone sounded: the doorbell.

“You won’t let him in?” the clone asked.

“No. I won’t let anyone in until you say it’s okay.”

Shiro waited for the clone to acknowledge, then headed for the door. He tapped his passcode into the panel and hit the control that let him open the door gradually. The doorframes in this facility were as oversized as the furniture, and Shiro guessed that his double was being calmed by the fact that he was contained. Hunk’s broad frame filled the empty space that appeared when the door panel slid partially to the left.

“Shiro!” Hunk was smiling, holding a large, rectangular, semi-transparent crate that Shiro guessed must contain food and bottled water. There were two datapads resting on top of the lid. “Figured you’d be starving. I brought enough stuff for a couple meals. For both of you, obviously, because, y’know… we’re all hoping both of you guys are okay.”

Shiro returned Hunk’s smile. This was the only way Hunk could think of to reach out. Shiro guessed the clone might be glad to hear his voice, even if he wasn’t ready to talk to anyone directly.

“We’re good,” Shiro exaggerated, taking hold of the box as Hunk passed it through the small space. “How’s everyone else?”

“We’re good too. Nothing on the radar, plenty of supplies to last a while. Keith is  _ way  _ less grouchy since he came back from that time rift thing, so that’s pretty sweet. Everyone’s eating in the mess hall now, and, uh, you should both come down for breakfast in the morning! I should be able to pull something decent together.”

Shiro could’ve hugged Hunk. 

“Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. So, Allura said you might… uh… barf? Take small bites of the solid stuff, drink tons of water in between, and, like, don’t get too discouraged, okay? It could take your system some time to adjust. If you feel sick with the solid food, I made you some shakes to try instead. Call us right away if you want to get checked out in the medbay, or, y’know, if you just want some more company? Any of us can come right down.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Shiro fibbed. “Thanks for doing all this.”

“Not a problem, man. I’ll leave extras of everything in the fridge in the mess hall. Just call if you want me to bring anything else.”

“Actually… could you grab me a bed roll? I think I’ll probably end up crashing here tonight.” Shiro knew the casual phrasing was a bit much, but he had no intention of pointing out that he might be keeping his double alive just by staying in the room with him.

“Sure thing. I’ll be back right after dinner.”

“No rush. We’ll be here.”

Shiro left Hunk with a half smile as he balanced the container on one forearm and tapped the door control to close and seal it. He brought the food to the table, set the datapads aside, and took out two bottles of water. He handed one of them off to not-Shiro before he sat down again.

“Are you sick?” the clone asked, choosing a seat on the perpendicular edge of the table.

“Huh?”

“Hunk… he said you might be sick.”

“Oh.” Shiro shook his head, less than enthused about examining that portion of the conversation. “No, it’s… well, I’ve never  _ eaten _ before. I’ve only had water so far.”

The clone’s eyes went wide. “Shit.  _ Shit.  _ I’m sorry, I keep… not  _ forgetting,  _ just… I don’t know. It’s like I can’t wrap my mind around it, or something.”

“That makes two of us.” Shiro took a sip from his water bottle; it went down easily enough. “I’m guessing the Galra had some kind of protocol for waking the clones. Some activation sequence or something, to kickstart bodily functions. Allura said I might feel like someone who’s been on an IV or a liquid diet or… anyway. I’ll be fine.”

Not-Shiro was fiddling with the lid of his water bottle, getting the hang of unscrewing it with one hand by bracing it against the crate. “I wish I could remember what it was like,” he said. “I mean,  _ no _ , I really don’t, but I wish I could… help.” He met Shiro’s eye. “Can you establish basic chat communication from the viewscreen? So I could let the team know, in case you needed something?”

Shiro read between the lines.  _ In case of an emergency. In case something happens to you, and I don’t know how to help.  _ It was a familiar gesture of caution. 

It was... comforting.

“Absolutely,” he said, activating one of the datapads with his fingerprint and passcode. “You can use the datapad or the screen.”

He finished establishing the links, then took stock of the rest of the crate’s contents. Hunk had helpfully labeled his food, indicating which choices were least likely to aggravate his system. He opened a container of something that vaguely resembled applesauce, picked up a spoon, and tried to prepare himself to take a bite.

He didn’t feel prepared in the least.

He stalled, putting his spoon down again so he could open a second identical container and hand it to his double.

“You have to be starving,” he prompted. “I used to eat half my body weight in Hunk’s cooking whenever I came out of one of those pods.”

One corner of the clone’s mouth turned up in a barely-detectable smile. “I know. I remember.”

Shiro made a face, finding himself guilty of the same blunder the clone kept stumbling into. Their circumstances were so bizarre, neither of them could hold all of the implications in their mind at once. This person didn’t  _ feel  _ like a mere copy, like some broken-off extension of Shiro himself. He felt familiar, but altogether  _ separate _ . For Shiro, it was like talking to a close friend of a friend for the first time- someone he’d heard so many stories about, he would’ve expected to know them by heart before ever setting foot in the same room.

It was a fitting analogy. He could call up a quarter of a lifetime of memories they had in common, and yet, in so many ways, this person was a complete stranger.

“Together?” not-Shiro prompted, picking up a spoon of his own.

_ Huh.  _ Shiro had expected him to try to refuse food altogether. Was he setting his own turmoil aside for Shiro’s benefit?

Shiro picked up his spoon, scooped up a medium-sized bite, and said, “Cheers.” They ate their spoonfuls together. The honey-colored mush  _ tasted _ vaguely like applesauce, too; Shiro was reminded of the handful of times he’d gotten strep throat as a kid, because-

“Do you remember…” the clone started, looking almost wistful before he let the sentence go, his expression falling back to neutral.

“What?” Shiro prompted. “Mom mixing our medicine into applesauce?”

“ _ Your  _ medicine,” the clone corrected.

“No.  _ Ours.  _ It happened to you just as much as it happened to me.”

The clone took another bite, looking thoughtful. Shiro followed suit. They ate in silence for a few moments, slowly, both of them staring at the table.

“How’s it feel?” not-Shiro eventually asked, scooping a final bite onto his spoon, leveraging the side of the crate to keep the container steady.

“Not amazing,” Shiro said honestly. His stomach felt  _ tight _ , like it was planning to cramp, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. He took another long swallow of water. “Could be worse.”

He opened another container that Hunk had labeled as protein-based and relatively safe. The rectangular bar inside resembled a brownie in color and consistency, though it tasted more like peanut butter when Shiro finally got the courage to nibble at one end of it. He took cautious bites, sipping water in between, watching his double nibble at an identical bar. He wondered if it was actually what the clone would’ve chosen to eat, or if he was just acting in solidarity.

He guessed it was the latter.

The notion was pleasant, and he might’ve thought about it further if it weren’t for the discomfort in his stomach, which was mounting at an alarming rate. He set the bar down, gripping the edge of his chair with one hand to try to stave off the twisting, cramping sensation, trying to summon the will to take another sip of water.

“You okay?” not-Shiro asked, eyeing him with concern. 

“I’m- um-  _ ngh- _ ”

Shiro gagged as nausea spilled up the back of his esophagus. He clamped a hand over his mouth and bolted for the bathroom, skidding onto his knees in front of the oversized toilet just in time to lean over the bowl and vomit up the meager contents of his stomach. 

He only retched three times before he was entirely emptied out, though he gagged a few times afterward, his stomach cramping painfully while his heart hammered in his chest, the nausea intensified by embarrassment and frustration and  _ horror- _

He couldn’t  _ eat- _

It was  _ wrong- _

Everything about him was  _ wrong- _

“Hey.” There was a warm hand wrapped around the back of his neck. “Shiro? Look at me?”

He turned his head toward the person who was kneeling next to him, his tongue catching painfully between his chattering teeth as he did so. He was shaking violently enough to blur his vision; his breathing was shallow and sharp.

“Do you need me to call someone?” The clone’s voice was impossibly steady. 

“N-no,” Shiro chattered out. “I’m just-”

“Losing your shit.” His double nodded. “I would be, too. It’ll pass.”

The pressure on the back of his neck intensified. Not-Shiro’s thumb was digging  _ hard  _ into a spot underneath his ear, and the unexpected shock of sensation was pulling him back from the sickening sweep of disorientation that had almost carried him away. Shiro closed his eyes, letting himself feel the depth of that pressure.

He wished it would swallow him whole.

“That’s it.” The clone was so close to him, his voice may as well have been inside Shiro’s own mind. “Breathe, now. Slow.”

Shiro inhaled through his nose, his shoulders shaking with the effort of trying to calm himself, his hands in tight fists at his sides.

It took five cycles of breath for the shaking to stop. 

He opened his eyes.

“Still with me?” The clone had slid his hand down a bit to knead gently over his first few vertebrae. 

Shiro nodded, swallowing against the sour taste in his mouth. He supposed he should be grateful he was capable of that much. 

The pressure on the back of his neck disappeared. The loss of contact was disorienting - he hadn’t been ready for that - but he had no way of expressing it just now. His double picked up a bottle of water from the floor and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” His voice  _ scraped _ , like fingernails on stone.

“Figured you’d want to rinse your mouth.”

“No, for...”

_ For what? Keeping me from losing my mind? _

The clone shrugged a little, sparing him from further elaboration.

“Least I can do.”

Shiro held his gaze for a moment before he took a mouthful of water, swished it around in his mouth, and spit it into the bowl. He repeated the process until the sour taste had faded to something tolerable.

“Try to swallow a little more before you get up,” his double said. Shiro made a face; he’d been hoping to avoid repeating that particular experiment for a while. “Come on,” the clone coaxed. “These are my quarters. I’d rather keep your puking confined to the bathroom.”

Shiro let some air out through his nose, dangerously close to actually  _ laughing _ , which was a miracle in and of itself. He rode the wave of breaking tension and took a small sip from his bottle, following it up with several more when nothing catastrophic happened. The clone nodded his approval and stood up from the floor to lean on the sink nearby.

Shiro let a few moments tick by, sipping cautiously until his stomach had untwisted itself. Then he stood on still-shaky limbs, flushed the contents of the toilet away, and turned to face his double, who was regarding him calmly, gripping the edge of the vanity counter with his single hand.

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” he said, “but you just lost all your calories.”

Shiro grimaced. He absolutely  _ did not  _ want to hear it.

“You need to stay strong,” the clone went on. “In case they need you, you know? So… try a couple sips of shake?”

Shiro stared back at him. He was right, of course. He needed to get his body to start metabolizing food as quickly as possible. He had to make it a priority, so that he’d be ready to fight alongside his team at a moment’s notice. And yet… he wasn’t sure if he would’ve found the will to try again tonight if the clone hadn’t been here.

“Want me to do it in here?” he asked, smiling. “Since you’re so concerned about potential puke?”

“If you promise me you’re not going to puke all over my floor, I’ll believe you.” 

Shiro nodded. “I promise.”

The clone nodded back. “I trust you.”

  
  



	3. Within Arm's Reach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy the lovely art in this chapter, created by hvdra00 on tumblr!

Shiro managed to get a whole shake down before Hunk stopped by with a bed roll- an oversized one, fully padded with a matching pillow and extra blanket from the base’s equipment room. Shiro didn’t try to push his double to answer the door with him; he was floored by the amount of progress they’d made in such a short time, and he’d decided to trust that the clone would eventually come around if Shiro continued to respect his boundaries. 

He was pleased to find not-Shiro tapping at his datapad once he’d said goodnight to Hunk and sealed the door again. Even from across the room, he could see a green icon on the screen that meant the clone was checking on the rest of the team.

“No cramping yet,” he said, trying to sound cheerful about it. He unfastened the straps on the bed roll and started laying it out on the floor underneath the viewscreen.

“You did good,” not-Shiro said, not looking up from his screen. Shiro thought he could see a block of text there. He must be accessing the Altean novels Shiro had transferred to his pad. “I know that must’ve sucked, so…” He shrugged. “You did good.”

Shiro finished straightening the bed roll and then headed back to the table, making an effort to show that he wasn’t trying to read over the clone’s shoulder.

“Mind if I dim the lights?” he asked. He’d recovered from his bout of nausea and subsequent anxiety attack reasonably well, but both had left him exhausted… or even more exhausted than he’d already been, after waking up in a manufactured body and having to physically subdue his own clone. “Thought I might try to get some sleep.”

“Sure.” Not-Shiro stood up from the table. “Take the bed.”

“No, I can-”

“Shiro.” The name hung in the air between them, sounding strange on the lips of the person who’d once thought it belonged to him. “I’ll take the floor. Please.”

Shiro felt a very real urge to hug him, for more reasons than he could count.

He didn’t.

“Thanks,” he said instead. “Wake me up if you need anything.”

“Ditto.”

Shiro dimmed the lights in the room using the panel by the door, and then he climbed into the oversized bed and settled onto his back. He briefly tried to recall the last time he’d slept in a bed at all, before he’d lost his body, lost his place in the physical world… he blinked, shifting onto his side, hoping to steer his thoughts toward less dangerous territory. He was comforted by what he saw before he closed his eyes: not-Shiro sprawled on his back on the bed roll, propped up on a couple of pillows so he could use his single hand to scroll through a block of text on his datapad.

Shiro knew the clone could’ve snapped - could’ve lost his mind entirely, could’ve given up on having to face these circumstances, on having to live this way. But he hadn’t. He was here, just across the room, safe and sound, reading a book. He wasn’t  _ saved _ yet, but he was alive, and as far as Shiro could tell, he wasn’t trying to die.

Shiro curled his legs toward his chest, thinking fleetingly that his double’s hand on the back of his neck (washing his face, grasping at his shirt) had made staying alive much easier for him today, too.

It was the last thought he had before he fell asleep.

* * *

When he woke up again, someone was yelling.

_ “Keith! Stop! You have to go- it’s not safe- NO! GET OUT OF HERE! GO! LET GO, KEITH-” _

Shiro bolted out of bed, frantically blinking himself awake until his gaze finally settling on his double, who was writhing on the floor in the dimmed light in the throes of a nightmare. Shiro practically leapt to his side and wrestled him onto his back, fully straddling him, pinning his arm up by the side of his head.

“Shiro,” he said, because he didn’t know how else to reach the person who was thrashing and yelling underneath him. “Shiro, wake up!” He pressed his thumb into the clone’s wrist at the same time that he dug his knees into his sides. His double’s eyes flew open, and he immediately started struggling, almost managing to buck Shiro off of himself before Shiro found his voice again.

“Stop- STOP! It’s me! You’re safe! Keith is  _ fine. _ ”

The clone went still, gray eyes turned black in the dim light of the room. He stared up at Shiro for a moment before his face crumpled. A great, heaving sob overtook him, shaking him from his shoulders to his hips.

Shiro sat back, pulled him up into a sitting position, and held him.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, cradling the back of his head, securing one arm around his back. “It’s all okay-”

“It’s not,” the clone sobbed. “It’ll  _ never _ be okay. I tried to  _ kill  _ them-”

“No-”

“Yes!”

_“No,_ you didn’t!” Shiro practically yelled, holding him so tight, he was sure it must’ve hurt. “I _know _you didn’t. I know how it happened. You saved _all _their lives.”

“What are you talking about? I set that virus at the castle-”

“And Pidge dismantled it,” Shiro pointed out. “Just like you knew she would.”

The clone quieted a little at that, though his shoulders were still shaking with nearly-silent sobs.

“Come on,” Shiro soothed, still holding him tight. “Walk me through it. Your orders were to...”

“To… to kill everyone in the castle,” not-Shiro supplied, clutching at the back of Shiro’s shirt with his only hand. “To get Lotor back to Haggar.”

“So you did what, exactly?’

“I… I attacked. I knocked everyone out.”

“And then what?”

“I used the command center to set the virus... I grabbed Lotor and left the bridge-”

“Right,” Shiro interrupted. “You  _ left the bridge.  _ While the entire team was incapacitated at your feet. You  _ left them alive,  _ when you could’ve activated your arm, or grabbed an energy weapon, and executed them on the spot. You  _ left them alive _ , and set a virus that you  _ knew  _ Pidge would be able to counteract.” Shiro softened his tone, loosened his hold into something gentle. “You saved them. I  _ know  _ you did. I’ll tell you as many times as you need me to until you can believe it.”

The clone let out a high, broken sob. He didn't argue, didn't contradict. He just laid his head on Shiro's shoulder and cried until Shiro could feel the damp of his tears through his shirt.

Shiro didn't let go, even then. He had to make this right. He had to make things safe.

He had to keep this person alive.

“Eiji,” he said, moving his hand in slow circles between his double's shoulder blades, like he would've wanted someone to do for him. “That's what I want to call you.”

_ “Sofu?”  _ The word was a murmured sob. “Your grandfather's name?”

“ _ Our  _ grandfather's name.” Shiro made a small space between them- just enough to see not-Shiro's face. “Second son,” he said, wiping at his double's tears with the back of his hand. “Please accept it. He would've wanted you to… and I need you to.”

Eiji nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said. He was starting to calm. “For you.”

Shiro stood up, pulling Eiji along with him.

“Come on. The bed's huge. You don't have to sleep on the floor.”

He'd been expecting an argument, but none came. Eiji followed him, waiting patiently until he'd climbed under the covers and settled onto his side before he slid into the bed too. They laid there, face to face, watching each other for the span of an in-and-out breath before Eiji's eyes fell closed, leaving Shiro to contemplate the strangeness of the scenario all on his own.

Inviting Eiji to share the bed with him hadn’t been an impulsive decision. He’d thought about suggesting it earlier, when he’d first been preparing for sleep, but Eiji had seemed perfectly at ease on the floor with his book, and Shiro had been too exhausted to think too carefully about why he thought sleeping next to each other would be a good idea.

There was no escaping it now, though. Shiro was wide awake, and he was sharing a bed with someone for the first time since he’d left for Kerberos.

He knew part of it was just the impulse to have someone - anyone - to be physically close to. He'd felt that impulse plenty of times since he'd been captured by the Galra. Even just being locked in the same room with other prisoners had been a comfort back then. He'd slept better anytime he'd closed his eyes with his back pressed against someone else's, even if they were a stranger. Even if he knew that they’d be gone in the morning, that he’d never see them again. 

He could still remember the feeling of Matt's hand squeezing his own as they'd lain back-to-back on the floor of their shared cell, dozing in shifts for the last time before they'd been separated at the arena the next day.

He hadn't held anyone's hand since. Not like that. Not selfishly. Not for comfort.

He'd needed that kind of comfort today, and instead of being the one causing his distress, Eiji had been the one to soothe him: holding him while he'd cried, anchoring him while he'd panicked, sitting with him in solidarity while he'd battled the horror of living inside a body that had never metabolized solid food, or cried genuine tears, or set foot on the planet Earth… or held someone's hand.

The least he could do was offer him a place to sleep, close by, where they could keep each other safe.

His gaze settled on Eiji's eyelashes again, since he'd caught a hint of movement there: a shimmer of glossy shine, damp as they were. Was Eiji dreaming already? Or was he holding his eyes closed, hoping to avoid confronting the person he was laying next to? Had the same memories and images been flickering across his mind, keeping him from settling back to sleep?

That question was answered when Eiji turned over to face the opposite wall, slid his arm back, and rested his only hand on the mattress between them.

And it was the easiest thing Shiro had ever done: turning over onto his opposite side, moving toward Eiji until they were pressed together, back-to-back.

Taking Eiji's hand, intertwining their fingers.

Letting their clasped hands rest on his upper thigh, on top of the blanket.

Falling asleep with the heat of someone else's body keeping him sane.

* * *

Shiro dreamed, too.

_ He was on the training deck on the Castle of Lions. He'd been sparring - he could feel the sweat on his brow - and Keith was his partner.  _

_ He was taller than Shiro was used to seeing him. A little broader too, though still lean and wiry. Quick. Powerful. _

_ “You weren't strong enough,” Keith said, wielding his blade like he meant to strike. He was shirtless. Shiro was too. _

_ “Keith? What are you-” _

_ “Protect yourself,” Keith demanded, his expression twisted with anger. “Better than you protected me-” _

_ Keith struck before Shiro had time to anticipate the attack. Pain seared down his left forearm, which should've been flesh and blood… except when Shiro snapped his head down to take in the injury, he saw metal glinting underneath his torn flesh, tubes and wiring where veins and tendons should’ve been- _

_ “Now we’re even,” Keith said, sounding strangely calm all of a sudden, like he’d landed a solid punch instead of torn Shiro open. He’d already sheathed the blade back into his belt. “A scar for a scar. Looks like yours might take a little longer to heal, though.” _

_ “Keith-” Shiro’s voice broke. His right hand was trembling, hovering just over the wound. He couldn’t touch it, couldn’t bear to confirm what he already knew. “I- I’m sorry-” _

_ “Save it,” Keith said- chastising, but with no real venom. “I learned how to save myself. Can you?” He took a step closer, violet eyes hard and dangerous up close. “Can you put yourself back together again-?” _

“Shiro?”

His eyes flew open. 

He was curled on his side, clutching a pillow to his chest.

Eiji was there, his face barely two inches away.

“It was just a dream,” Eiji murmured. “You’re safe.”

Shiro sniffed. Had he been crying in his sleep?

“Here,” Eiji said, propping himself up with his only arm. “Switch with me. I know you don’t like to feel trapped.”

Shiro loosened his hold on the pillow and sat up, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand.

“Neither do you.”

Eiji shrugged, moving onto his knees further down toward the end of the bed, making a space that Shiro could move into.

“I’ll be okay. Being confined is… good, right now.”

Lacking the will or the energy to argue, Shiro shifted toward the edge of the bed, tucking the pillow back where it belonged so Eiji could use it. He laid down on his side, watching Eiji do the same, feeling cold despite the warmth of the blanket.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Shiro shook his head. Eiji let out a small, sympathetic sigh.

“I'll be here, if you change your mind.”

He closed his eyes again. He wouldn't push further than that. Shiro knew he wouldn't.

He scowled to himself. He  _ wanted _ to be pushed. He didn't want to spend time dwelling on nightmares and past horrors. He didn't want to spend all day tomorrow ignoring the throbbing ache behind his eyes that came with fitful, too-little sleep. He didn't want to be alone with these thoughts, his heart beating too fast for all the wrong reasons, his fingers flexed too tight into fists that could do nothing to stave off this  _ fear _ , this  _ loneliness _ …

_ One more night. Please. _

Shiro closed his eyes, falling into the memory. 

Adam had given in easily, though they both knew it wouldn't solve anything to sleep next to each other one more time. They were over, had spent all day deciding that ending things now would be best for both of them, letting distance grow between them until it loomed dark and heavy, like cloud shadow rolling in to mar an otherwise sunny day. 

But Shiro was leaving for Kerberos. Shiro was running headlong toward the blackness of space, and he was scared, and Adam was scared for him, and wasn't that why this had all come crashing down in the first place? 

Knowing that made it easy: undressing on opposite sides of the bed they’d shared for more than a year, slipping under the sheets they'd bought together, laying face-to-face without touching, like they had a handful of times before, after disagreements or hurt feelings or too much time spent worrying over their uncertain future.

One of them always caved though, and that night it was Shiro. He closed his eyes and slid off of his pillow, moving down to rest his cheek against the mattress instead,  _ just barely _ moving closer to Adam in the process. 

And of course, Adam hadn't hesitated. Adam had always wanted this with him- more than Shiro had, more than either of them had ever wanted anything else. Shiro had been drowning in the guilt of it, had been living with that knowledge like an ever-present weight in the pit of his stomach… until he felt Adam wrap his arms around him for the last time that night in bed. There was no weight then, no stab of guilt. The only thing Shiro felt when he pressed his cheek against Adam's chest was  _ comfort.  _

He'd been loved. Someone had loved him enough to want him to stay.

And he might've reconsidered the whole thing if Adam hadn't been gone in the morning.

Maybe.

He'd never know for sure.

In the here and now, he wiped at his face, hating the itch of tears against his too-sensitive skin, hating the reminder that this body was just some arbitrary vessel his soul had barely attached itself to.

Hating the reminder that this body had never been loved by anyone, including Adam.

He kept his eyes closed. He slid off of his pillow, further down the bed, and let his cheek rest against the mattress. He hugged his arms across his chest and bent his knees, folding in on himself, trying to remember how it had felt-

Eiji's hand was on his shoulder.

(Shiro's heart thudded almost painfully inside his chest.)

Eiji's arm was sliding over his side... 

Eiji’s hand was pressing against his back, pulling him closer-

Shiro closed the gap, wrapping an arm around Eiji's back, burying his face against Eiji's chest.

He let the memories go, let the pressure of a firm hand and the warmth of shared body heat take their place.

His heart rate slowed.

He felt momentary tension in Eiji's frame, and the subtle clearing of his throat, like he was preparing to speak… but he didn't.

Eiji’s hand was warm and steady, rubbing between Shiro's shoulder blades.

_ Warm and steady. _

It was the last thought Shiro had before he fell asleep again.

* * *

Shiro woke up the same way he'd fallen asleep, which meant that he'd slept soundly.

It also meant he had to confront the fact that he’d spent the night holding someone for the first time since he’d left Earth, and despite the fact that he was still half asleep, he couldn’t ignore  _ who  _ that person was.

Shiro was still pressed against Eiji from his forehead to his knees. His face was still buried against Eiji's chest, and his arm was still secured around Eiji's back… and Eiji was awake, his thumb moving almost imperceptibly between Shiro’s shoulder blades.

“Hey,” Eiji said, his voice rough from sleep. He must've felt tension return to Shiro's frame as he'd woken. “It's just after six. I'm guessing you can go back to sleep if you want to.”

Shiro kept his eyes closed, stalling. He wondered how long Eiji had been awake, trying to decide what to say. Had he thought about pulling away? Or was this an invitation, an acknowledgement that they could stay just as they were if Shiro wanted to?

_ Did _ Shiro want to?

He didn't feel equipped to answer that question just now- but it would be so easy to stay, to slip back into sleep with the heat of Eiji's body surrounding him…

_ Jesus. _

Eiji's  _ body. _

What was he doing?

“What were you reading?” he asked, on impulse, entirely incapable of analyzing the situation further.

“Huh?”

“Last night. On the datapad.”

“Oh.” Eiji cleared his throat. He still sounded half asleep himself. “Fiction. It’s about a historian… like, an author? He’s documenting the outbreak of a war and gets sucked into the conflict. Basically requisitioned by the military as a diplomatic asset.”

Shiro only just registered what Eiji had said, given that most of his attention was focused on Eiji’s hand, which was  _ just barely  _ moving over the center of his back, putting pressure on the muscles there. He moved his own fingertips, allowing himself to feel the soft material of Eiji’s shirt.

“Light reading, then?”

“Mm.” Shiro felt the vibration of Eiji’s almost-laugh against his cheek and his hand. “It’s not as heavy as I made it sound. I like it so far.”

Shiro turned this over in his mind. He enjoyed reading, though he'd always had a preference for nonfiction. It had been years since he'd even thought about reading a novel. The fact that Eiji had asked for books to read to soothe himself and pass the time reminded Shiro of how drastically their paths had diverged. They were two different people, growing more different by the moment as they accumulated new experiences.

An exact copy of himself never would've held him like this, Shiro realized suddenly. He would've gotten hung up on the implications, would've defaulted to excess caution to avoid any breach of propriety.

Not Eiji, though. 

Eiji was bold.

Shiro let his index finger trace along the outline of his trapezius, where it sloped between the bones of his shoulder blades.

“Maybe I should check it out,” he said, well aware that he'd been quiet for a beat too long.

“I'll send you the file. I'm guessing you'd like it…” Eiji hesitated. “Actually, I'm not sure if you would. That's weird, isn't it?”

Shiro wanted to laugh. It was  _ all  _ weird, to the point of absurdity.

“I think it's good,” he said. “We're not the same. We can… get to know each other.”

“We're not the same,” Eiji agreed. His hand was closer to Shiro's lower back, now, his thumb moving idly, rumpling the fabric of his shirt. “I know you, though.”

Shiro's brow furrowed. Eiji's voice was low and smooth, making the words sound  _ intimate  _ in a way he hadn't been prepared for. He knew he should let go, move away, put a stop to  _ whatever this was  _ and get some space between them… but all he wanted to do was stay.

“I might surprise you,” he murmured.

Eiji's palm flattened against his lower back in what was unmistakably a gesture of affection.

“You already have.”

Shiro's breath caught a little bit. He was fully awake now, no longer able to ignore all the ways they were touching each other. Eiji's mouth was so close to the top of his head, Shiro could feel the warmth of his breath when he spoke. Eiji's hand was  _ moving  _ and  _ touching _ deliberately, his arm strong and secure, holding Shiro in place. And he was so  _ warm,  _ especially where the front of his lap was pressed up against Shiro's stomach-

“Um,” Shiro mumbled, moving carefully out of his hold, slipping out of the bed, avoiding eye contact. “I should… train.”

Eiji nodded, maneuvering into a sitting position. “I guess I should too.”

“More than enough space on the floor.” Shiro was already rolling the bed roll back into a more compact shape. “I can help you modify your sets if you want.”

Eiji let out a stifled laugh. It was so unexpected, Shiro's head snapped in his direction.

“Listen,” Eiji said, vaulting easily off of the bed with his single hand braced on the mattress. “Anything you can do, I can do missing an arm.”

Shiro  _ laughed _ , so easily that he startled himself. He stashed the bed roll under the table and turned to face his double.

“We'll see about that.”

* * *

“Shit-  _ fuck- fucking-  _ mother _ fucker _ -”

Shiro raised an eyebrow in the direction of the bathroom, smiling a little as Eiji's tirade echoed off the stone walls and into the living space. Shiro had been sipping one of Hunk's shakes while he sent a status update to the rest of the team and waited for Eiji to finish his shower so he could try broaching the subject of breakfast.

“Everything okay in there?”

_ “Everything's fucking fine except I ONLY HAVE ONE FUCKING ARM, SHIRO.” _

Shiro stifled a laugh. He knew that tone. Eiji was frustrated, but there was no real angst behind the comment. He was being excessively dramatic for comedic effect, and it was working.

“Need a…  _ hand _ ?”

_ “FUCK YOU!” _

Shiro did laugh, finally: a quiet chuckle that felt strange vibrating inside his chest.

“Seriously,” he called. “What do you need?”

Eiji's only response was an exaggerated groan. Shiro stood up from the table and headed into the bathroom, looking toward the shower. It was about three times as large as a typical Garrison stall, separated from the rest of the bathroom by a partial stone wall. The upper half of Eiji's face was just visible above it; he was scowling, his brow furrowed in a way that made Shiro want to laugh all over again. 

“What's the matter?”

“It's this stupid fucking  _ canister… _ ”

_ Oh.  _

Shiro felt a tender thrum of embarrassment and sympathy. He'd already taken a shower and had no difficulty navigating the aerosol canister that contained an all purpose soap-and-shampoo foam, given that he had two fully functioning hands.

Eiji lacked that advantage, and Shiro was already picturing what sort of challenges he might be running into. It occurred to him that regular bar soap would've presented a problem too; Eiji was going to need some kind of adaptive brush or cloth to thoroughly wash himself.

That wouldn't help Eiji's current predicament though, and despite his attempts to make light of it, Shiro knew the situation was somewhat dire. Cleanliness was massively important to him, even more so since he'd been held prisoner and denied the right to consistent personal hygiene for so long. He guessed Eiji felt the same way.

“I can spray you down,” Shiro offered. “Just come to the edge so I don't get soaked.”

Eiji met his eye over the stone wall. “You sure? Plenty of room in here.” He was teasing again, probably looking for ways to avoid dwelling on the very real tragedy of his missing limb. 

Probably.

Shiro felt warmth start to bloom in his cheeks.

“I know for a fact you'd try to hog the spray.”

“No,” Eiji said, almost laughing. “You know  _ you'd _ try to hog the spray. You have no idea what I'd do.”

Shiro swallowed. It was true, an innocent enough observation… though it sounded so far from innocent, Shiro felt the blush in his cheeks start to spread. He tried to clear the notion from his mind as he watched Eiji move toward the edge of the enclosure. 

Shiro stepped around the wall to meet him and accepted the canister, trying to find somewhere to let his gaze linger that didn't feel uncomfortable or intrusive.

“It's mostly my left side,” Eiji said, swiping his damp hair back from his forehead now that his hand was free. Shiro met his gaze, noticing for the first time how odd and oddly  _ satisfying  _ is was to be perfectly eye level with someone.

“We can come up with some kind of solution,” he said. “But I'm here for now, so…”

He let the thought go as Eiji raised his arm over his head in invitation.

“If you tickle me,” Eiji warned, “I'll hold you under that shower until you're soaked and throw the rest of your clothes out the nearest airlock.”

Shiro exhaled a laugh, spraying foam up and down the left side of Eiji's body. “You think you could restrain me?”

“Mm. Remind me- who did more one-armed pushups this morning?”

“You did  _ one extra. _ ”

“One more than you did.”

Shiro feigned a glare, spraying foam all over Eiji's underarm, holding the canister closer than was strictly necessary in one specific area. Eiji squirmed, his arm snapping down to protect the sensitive spot, his expression a comical mix of good humor and indignance. 

“You-!”

“I was  _ helping, _ ” Shiro laughed.

“Asshole!”

Eiji's hand shot out and grasped Shiro's bicep so quickly, he didn't think to react until he'd already been yanked halfway inside the enclosure, bare feet splashing through the accumulated water on the stone floor, the bottoms of his black lounge pants soaked beyond salvaging.

Eiji was laughing, watching Shiro lift one foot at a time to assess the damage. He opted to celebrate his victory by cupping his hand under the spray and tossing a handful of water right in Shiro's face.

“Fuck-!” Shiro spluttered, though he was laughing, too. “Jesus! Next time I'll just let you suffer!”

“No you won't,” Eiji said smoothly. “Doubt you'll try to tickle me again, though.”

“Mm. I wouldn't be so sure about that.”

Eiji made another grab for him, but Shiro dodged it easily this time, raising his hands in a submissive gesture.

“Okay,  _ fuck _ , I'm already soaked…”

“Looks like your pants got the worst of it,” Eiji assessed, letting his eyes sweep up and down Shiro's body. “So- you gonna take them off and stay a while?”

Shiro gaped, his mind spinning as he searched for an appropriate response. Was this another attempt at keeping things light? Or was it more than that? Shiro knew Eiji felt better when he was close by, and he couldn't deny that the feeling was mutual. Was this Eiji's way of trying to keep him within arm's reach?

Or did he want him even closer than that?

“Figured you'd be sick of seeing me naked by now,” Shiro said, hoping to appeal to Eiji's surprisingly well developed sense of humor.

He failed on that front, though. Eiji's expression fell into something unreadable before he abruptly turned around and started rinsing under the spray.

“I've never seen you naked,” he said, the muscles of his back shifting as he ducked his head under the water and raised his hand to rinse his hair. Shiro stared, transfixed for a moment. He'd never seen himself from this angle, hadn't spared much thought about his appearance for such a long time… his eyes wandered of their own accord, widening as he took in the definition of Eiji's hips and lower back, and the sculpted swell of his backside, and the sliver of a scar on his rear, left thigh. 

It felt disturbingly narcissistic just entertaining the thought, but it couldn't be helped.

Eiji was beautiful.

“Thank you,” Eiji was saying. He kept his back turned. “For helping me out. I'm not sorry I got you wet though. You deserved that.”

“I did,” Shiro said mechanically, feeling hot from head to toe, feeling something  _ tense _ , somewhere deep inside himself-

He blinked, shook his head, and walked out of the enclosure, wondering if he felt the need to escape for the same reason Eiji had turned his back to him.


	4. Safe Haven

Shiro was scrolling idly on his datapad when Eiji emerged from the bathroom, still naked from the waist up, running a towel through his short hair. Shiro eyed him from his seat at the table, still feeling confused and a little unsettled after what had happened in the shower, but unwilling to let any awkwardness linger between them.

“Had to borrow some of your clothes,” he said, gesturing to the gray t-shirt he was wearing. 

“They fit okay?” Eiji teased. He was smiling, seemingly unfazed by the strangeness that had passed between them a few minutes before. Shiro let himself laugh.

“Might be a little loose through the chest.”

“Oh yeah?” It came out like a challenge. Eiji draped his towel over the back of a chair and headed toward the wardrobe. “Thought the neckline might've been too tight to fit over your massive head.”

Shiro raised his eyebrows, feigning indignation. “Are you seriously commenting on my ego?”

“Mm. Wouldn't dream of it.”

Eiji opened the wardrobe and pulled out a clean, gray t-shirt, his expression falling neutral as he let it drape over his hand and forearm.

_ Oh. _

Shiro felt another stab of embarrassment. He'd been wondering why Eiji hadn't bothered to finish getting dressed before he left the bathroom. Why was it so easy to forget?

He stood up and moved to Eiji's side, determined to do a better job of anticipating things he might need help with. It felt cruel to force him to ask. Shiro certainly wouldn't have wanted to. He took the shirt without preamble and fitted his fingers through the neckline like he'd done the day before, waiting for Eiji to acknowledge.

He did, with a tiny nod. Shiro held up his hands, peeking through the neckline.

“Wide enough for your  _ massive  _ head?”

The corners of Eiji's mouth turned up. “Okay. I deserve that.”

Shiro fitted the shirt over his head and helped him get his hand through the sleeve.

“Listen,” Eiji said, meeting his eye. “I know there are things you haven't told me. You're waiting, right? To make sure I can handle it?”

Shiro breathed in and out, adjusting the way the shirt fell over Eiji's shoulders. 

“Yeah.”

“If I told you I'm ready, would you take my word for it?”

Shiro didn't answer right away. He let his hand run over Eiji's chest, unconsciously smoothing the ripples in the fabric.

“Look,” Eiji said. “I don't know if I'll ever feel like I'm  _ supposed _ to be here. I don't know what the metrics are for psychological fitness in a situation like this. The only thing I know for sure is that I want to help you keep them safe. If I can help you win the war, I will. Can that be enough for now?”

Shiro nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Eiji set his shoulders. “Let's have it. Why are we here? Why did I wake up in a pod that used to be on the Castle of Lions?”

Shiro let his hands fall to his sides, let them curl into fists, let his fingertips, flesh-and-blood and otherwise, brush against his palms.

“The team fought Lotor all the way inside the quintessence field,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “They tried to recover him, but they couldn't, and they had to seal the gateway… they needed a huge amount of energy, so they sacrificed the castle. They took as much as they could carry first, but, yeah. The castle is gone.”

Eiji's eyebrows were set in a hard line. He bobbed his head once, like this news wasn't entirely unexpected. 

“Have they figured out another way to recharge the lions?”

“No. And we barely had enough power to make it here.”

“Have we been in contact with Earth?”

Shiro swallowed, resisting the urge to step even closer. They were  _ already _ close. He could've touched the back of Eiji's hand with the barest flex of his wrist.

“Eiji… there's something else. The quintessence field… time passed differently there, so by the time we all made it out…” He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry. It's been a little over three years since the day you left the castle with Lotor.”

“Three  _ years? _ ” Eiji clearly hadn't been expecting this piece of information. “Jesus. What's our intel?”

“The empire is fractured. Different factions vying for control. The Olkari had to destroy their teludav in a conflict with the Galra… we've had no word from any of our allies… and as far as we can tell…” Shiro held Eiji's gaze, hoping his presence, his proximity, might do something to lessen the pain of the news he was about to deliver. “As far as we can tell, Sendak was planning to head to Earth.”

Anguish rippled across Eiji's expression. 

“Haggar?” 

“The Blades lost track of her about a year ago. They thought she might've partnered up with Sendak before that, but it wasn't clear.”

Eiji shook his head. “Might've looked that way, but she's always had her own agenda.” He ran his single hand through his fringe. “You said Lotor was trapped inside the quintessence field?”

“Yes.”

“She would've tried to retrieve him. If he's alive, she'll be working on a way for the two of them to get control over the empire. And if he's dead… she'll be looking for us.”

“She could be looking for us either way.”

Eiji nodded. “Yeah. You're right.”

Shiro finally took the risk of physical touch, resting his hand on Eiji's upper arm.

“Worse than you thought?”

Eiji reached up and took hold of his forearm. “Much worse. Thanks for telling me, though. And… waiting was the right call. I wasn't in my right mind yesterday.” He swallowed. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Yeah. Uh. Keith…”

Eiji's expression hardened. “You said he was okay-”

“He is. It's just… what do you remember from your fight at the clone facility?”

Eiji shook his head. “Bits and pieces. At first I was just trying to… um.” He had to pause. Shiro gave his arm a tiny squeeze. “She made me set the entire platform to self destruct,” Eiji explained. “I didn't think there was any chance either of us would make it out of there, so I was trying to… knock him out. So he wouldn't…  _ feel _ anything-”

He stopped again. He kept his hand wrapped around Shiro's forearm.

“I'm not sure if I can really explain it,” he finally said, making an obvious effort to stay composed. “I don't think I was the one throwing the punches, but sometimes I could control how hard they hit or where they landed. Only at first, though. Whole stretches of it are dark. I don't remember what happened right before he said-”

He abruptly broke off the sentence. Curiosity burned through Shiro's mind, but he knew better than to press the issue.

“He's marked up,” Shiro said, gently. “His face. I just wanted you to be prepared before you see him.”

Eiji swallowed hard. Shiro might've been the only person who could tell, but he was holding back tears.

“How bad?”

“Bad enough to scar. Allura said he refused the healing pod.”

Eiji chewed the corner of his lower lip.

“Lance?”

Shiro nodded. “Broken nose. Healing well.”

“Fuck. I hit him  _ so hard, _ Shiro-”

“I know. It made an impression. He's probably the most wary of all of us, but he wants you here just as much as everyone else.”

“As much as you?”

Shiro heard a dull  _ thudthudthud  _ inside his ears: a momentary spike in his heart rate. Eiji's fingers were strong and steady, pressing into his forearm, and Eiji's eyes were clear and questioning, just a couple inches away-

Shiro stepped away from him and turned his back before he answered.

“No one wants you here more than I do.”

Silence hung between them for a beat.

Eiji was the one who broke it.

“I'll need to see them both alone before breakfast.”

Shiro turned to face him again, hope and relief blooming in his chest.

“You'll come with me?”

“On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You need to stay with me. Within arm's reach, at all times. Just in case.”

Shiro nodded. “I will.”

“There was  _ time, _ ” Eiji went on. “When I was being…  _ controlled.  _ It didn't happen all at once. At first it was like… like my head was being split open, or something. I was practically incapacitated, for at least a few seconds. So you'd have time to do whatever you needed to do. Okay?  _ Whatever you needed to do. _ ”

Shiro held his gaze for a moment before he said, “Okay.” 

Eiji fell silent. Shiro rolled his shoulders, reminding himself that he had no reason to think he’d ever have to subdue Eiji. He’d reacted on instinct the day before, engaged with him physically out of necessity, and even that had taken a toll. The idea of harming Eiji made him feel physically ill.

“So… should I try to get Keith and Lance down here?”

“Yeah. Lance first, if that’s okay.”

Shiro tapped at his black wrist communicator, bringing his holographic display to life. He sent Lance a quick message and received an immediate response.

“He’s on his way,” he said, dismissing the display. “Anything I can do to give you some privacy?”

“I haven’t earned privacy yet,” Eiji said simply. “I’m guessing Lance will be more at ease if you’re close by anyway.”

The doorbell tone sounded. Shiro went to the panel in the wall and tapped at it, letting the door slide all the way open this time. Lance was there, looking sleep-deprived, though better than the last time Shiro had seen him. Yesterday afternoon, he'd had three strips of medical tape across his nose, holding the fracture in place. Today the strips were gone, and the only indication of any injury was the bruising around each of his eyes.

“Lance.” Shiro tried his best to sound cheerful. “You look better. I'm guessing Allura finally convinced you to take some time in the healing pod?”

Lance smiled faintly. “Yeah. She said she'd find a few more bones to break if I didn't. I had her pull me out as soon as the fracture healed, though. I can deal with a little bruising.”

Shiro nodded. He didn't think anyone on the team was anxious to be incapacitated inside a healing pod right now. He'd spent plenty of time avoiding proper healing cycles himself, and he'd had more than a few scars to show for it, too, before he'd taken up residence in a body that hadn't lived through any of those circumstances.

He stood to the side to let Lance pass and tapped the door shut behind him.

Eiji was right where he'd left him, standing near the back of the room. He made no move to approach, and Lance opted to stay by Shiro's side.

“Lance,” Shiro said, “this is Eiji.”

“Oh.” Lance turned his head toward the person in question. “You don't want us to call you Shiro anymore?”

“I'm not Shiro,” Eiji said, gently. “Not anymore.”

“But you were? At some point, I mean?”

“Yeah. Up until he was first captured by the Galra, we were the same. And now... we're not.”

“ _ Eiji,”  _ Lance practiced. “I'll try to remember.”

“Thanks. Uh.” Eiji gestured with his hand, spreading his fingers at his side. “How are you feeling?”

Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “Like I got punched in the face by a metal fist.”

Shiro winced. He didn't interject, though. He knew Eiji wouldn't appreciate it.

“Fair enough,” Eiji said, softly. “You have every right to feel badly about what happened. I'm so sorry, Lance.”

Lance's shoulders relaxed a bit.

“Look… Allura told me you had no control over what you were doing-”

“He did,” Shiro interrupted, ignoring a warning look from Eiji. “He broke your nose instead of killing you. He made it look like he was following orders so he could leave everyone alive.”

Lance stared at Shiro for a moment before he turned his attention back to Eiji. “Is that true?”

Eiji nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know it doesn't make it all okay. I know it was my hand that hurt you. You can be angry, or suspicious, or whatever else you need to be, while I figure out how to earn your trust back.”

“ _ Suspicious  _ can stay on that list,” Lance said. “Why did you attack Shiro yesterday? Hunk told me what happened. He said you were just  _ confused _ . Are we going to be dodging punches every time you get confused about something?”

“No.” Eiji sounded impressively calm, Shiro thought. Like he'd expected this. Wanted it, even. Like he felt like he deserved to be punished.

Shiro knew what that was like.

“I thought I was back on Haggar's ship,” Eiji was saying. “I wasn't the only clone she…  _ manufactured.  _ There were hundreds of others... I figured she'd requisitioned another one after my mission failed. I thought Shiro was another copy, and yeah… if I ever come up against her, or one of her druids, or another clone that’s still doing her bidding… I'll throw a few punches. I'd do a lot more than that, too, to keep you safe.”

Lance nodded slowly. “I want to believe that.”

“I believe it,” Shiro said. “Does that count for anything?”

Lance met his eye. “It’s not that I don't trust you, Shiro. It's just… he's  _ you.  _ If it were me, I'd want to protect him too. I'd want to believe that he's  _ good _ .” He turned back to Eiji. “I'm glad you're okay. Keith did the right thing, trying to save you, and I feel bad about what you've been through, but…”

Eiji flexed his wrist, moving his hand in a placating gesture. “It's really okay, Lance. I'm not interested in putting anyone at risk.”

“I'll stay with him,” Shiro added. “Anytime he leaves this room.”

“Sure.” Lance shifted his weight, glancing toward the door, obviously ready for this conversation to be over. “I said I'd help Hunk… see you both at breakfast, I guess?”

Shiro tapped the panel for him. The door slid open.

“Lance?”

He paused with a hand on the door frame, glancing at Eiji over his shoulder.

“If I can help you get back to your family, I will. And… I'm sorry, again.”

Lance shrugged. “I think the black eyes make me look tough. I don't mind people knowing I can take a punch.”

He left.

Shiro sealed the door behind him.

“Jesus,” Eiji muttered. “Am I crazy? That is  _ not  _ the Lance I remember.”

“I know. He took it the hardest, finding out that the Galra might've been heading to Earth.”

“Yeah. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that he thought you broke his face and tried to kill everyone on the team.”

“Uh… it might be a little bit of that,” Shiro conceded. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine. Could've been a lot worse.”

Shiro looked him over. This was a lot to take on all at once. Would  _ he  _ be able to cope with a situation like this, if their places were reversed?

He had to believe that he would.

He glanced at the viewscreen. “We've got about ten minutes before breakfast. I should try to get Keith down here.”

He sent the message and got another immediate response. He was letting Keith through the door within a minute.

Keith looked tired too, though he'd obviously had a shower and replaced the bandage on his face since the last time Shiro had seen him. He was distractingly tall and broad in his red, fitted loungewear-  _ changed, _ just like he'd been in Shiro's dream.

Unlike that fabricated version of himself, though, he looked almost painfully relieved to see Shiro again. He paused briefly to rest a hand on his shoulder, then headed straight for Eiji and pulled him into a close hug. Eiji went stiff for a moment, but then he embraced Keith, letting his eyes fall shut, letting his chin rest on Keith's shoulder. 

The difference in Keith's stature was even more obvious when he was pressed up against Eiji. Shiro had often reminded himself of Keith's youth since they'd been stranded in deep space with the weight of the universe on their shoulders… but there was no denying it now.

Keith was a grown man.

And he was hugging Eiji like his life depended on the closeness of their embrace.

Shiro felt a stab of discomfort, somewhere underneath his ribs. He couldn't tell if he wanted to wrestle them apart or fold the two of them into his arms.

“I knew you were in there,” Keith was saying, still clinging to Eiji like a lifeline. “I knew it. Dunno why you bothered trying to convince me otherwise.”

“I wasn't myself, Keith,” Eiji said, gently disengaging from him.

“But you are now.”

Eiji smiled. “Because of you. I'll never be able to thank you.”

“You'll never have to.”

Eiji shifted his weight, briefly meeting Shiro's eye before he looked at Keith again. “Shiro gave me a name.  _ Eiji _ . What do you think? It was our grandfather's name.”

Keith glanced back at Shiro for a moment, looking confused. 

“Why do you need a different name? You're  _ Shiro- _ ”

“I was.” Eiji's voice was gentle. “I know it's strange. We  _ were _ the same person, but we're not now. We never will be again.”

“But that's… I don't…” Keith shook his head, his shoulders rising and falling as he took a slow breath. He looked like he wanted to argue the point, but he didn't. “Um. How are you feeling?”

“Better. I'm sorry if I scared everyone yesterday. And I'm sorry, about…” Shiro saw Eiji's hand twitch. He knew that impulse: to reach out to Keith, to touch his hand or his arm or his face. To make sure he was  _ real _ and solid and safe. “God, it sounds so trivial even saying it,” he went on. “I'll never be able to apologize enough for what I did to you. For the way you must've felt. It's just... it-”

“It hurts,” Keith confirmed. “For both of us. All of us. But not because it was your fault.”

Eiji's eyebrows drew together. He finally did reach up and touch his thumb to the edge of the medical tape that was holding Keith's bandage in place.

“Show me?”

“No. The bandage will be off in a couple days.”

“Why won't you take some time in the pod? It wouldn't be so bad, it might not even show at all-”

“No,” Keith said again. “I'm not doing that. I'm not going to erase what happened. I won the fight, I brought you back. I get to keep the scar.”

Shiro couldn't stop the small, sad smile that turned up one corner of his mouth. He felt the same way about the scar across his nose.

He guessed Eiji did, too.

“It… helps to hear that,” Eiji said. “But it's not just about blame. It's not just about who's responsible. Something happened to you. Something deeply wrong and violent. You deserve to have that acknowledged. You did that for me, when…”

Eiji let the sentence go. Keith had crossed his arms over his chest; Shiro could see him digging his thumb into his upper arm.

“Okay,” Keith said, quietly. “I'll acknowledge it if you'll come to breakfast.”

“I will.”

Keith nodded. “See you there?”

“Yeah. See you there, Keith.”

He headed for the door, pausing in front of Shiro before he left.

“You're really okay?” he asked, like he actually wanted an answer.

“Yeah,” Shiro said, because the real answer wouldn't fit into the span of this conversation.

Keith hugged him - briefly, without preamble - and then he left. Shiro sealed the door behind him.

“I… wasn't expecting that,” Eiji said, finally approaching. “For him to get so hung up on the name, I mean.”

Shiro nodded. “I was.”

“What am I missing? We can't keep the same name, even just for practical purposes. I thought he would've anticipated that.”

Shiro took this in, searching Eiji's expression. Did they really  _ know  _ Keith in different ways? 

“Keith saved you because he thought you were me. And you  _ were _ , for all the years that you mattered so much to him. It would sting, to think that you don't want to be  _ Shiro _ anymore.”

“Shit,” Eiji muttered. “Damn. I could've done a better job explaining.”

“We'll both have plenty of chances. And he's tough. He'll cope. And he'll understand better when he spends more time with you.”

Eiji tilted his head. “You really think I should spend more time with Keith?”

“Why not?”

“Seriously?” Eiji wasn't teasing. His eyebrows were drawn together in a gentle frown. “Shiro. You have to know how he feels about you-”

“No.” Shiro held up a hand in warning. “It isn't like that-”

“It wasn't before, I know that, but-”

“Eiji, he was a  _ kid- _ ”

“He's not anymore-”

“I'm no good for him!” Shiro hadn't meant to raise his voice, but it happened all the same. “You and I both know that! It doesn't matter how he feels, it doesn't matter how  _ I _ feel, we're in the middle of a war and I have  _ no idea  _ who I'll be when it's over. There's too much…  _ damage. _ I don't want that for him. You shouldn't either-”

Eiji was hugging him before he'd finished the thought, his single arm braced tight against his spine, his nose pressed into his hair, behind his ear.

“You are  _ not _ going to let the damage dictate the rest of your life,” he said, obviously distressed. “You hear me?”

Shiro didn't move at first. He just stood with his arms at his sides and his eyes closed, trying to understand the  _ tug _ he felt inside his chest every time Eiji got close to him like this. It was like Eiji could build a wall around him, separating him from the grief and the worry and the weight of the world. Eiji was a safe haven he hadn't known he’d needed or wanted, and even though he knew that indulging in this feeling was selfish and  _ strange _ , all he wanted was to stay right here.

“I hear you,” he said, sliding his arms around Eiji's back, tilting his chin to breathe in the clean, simple smell of his hair, to feel the warmth of his face, so close…

Eiji pressed their cheeks together.

Shiro's mouth fell open as he leaned into the pressure, the corner of his upper lip brushing against Eiji's skin.

The spike of agitation he'd felt a moment ago resolved into a different kind of energy, his heartbeat stuttering, his breathing growing shallow and uneven, his hands tense against the fabric of Eiji's shirt-

“Shiro…” Eiji's voice was so quiet, the name may as well have appeared directly inside Shiro's mind. “Do you still want to go to breakfast?”

_ No. _

“Yeah.”

Eiji's hand followed the curve of his spine and settled onto his lower back, fingertips splaying wide, palm applying firm pressure.

“You're sure? That's what you want?”

_ It's not. _

“Yes.”

Shiro felt Eiji swallow, felt the muscles of his jaw tighten and release. 

“I'm sorry,” Eiji said. “I'm having trouble figuring out what you're saying ‘yes’ to.”

Shiro moved his chin in a slow tilt, feeling the  _ press _ of Eiji's cheek against the side of his face.

He felt…

He felt…

He felt Eiji's thumb brush against his lower back, underneath his shirt.

“Um.” Shiro felt lightheaded. Fuzzy. Like he'd been holding his breath. “Breakfast. That's… um. We need to. Okay?”

“Okay.” Shiro felt Eiji's mouth move against his cheek when he spoke. “I'll follow your lead.”

Shiro squeezed his eyes shut even tighter against the subtle reference to what was happening here- to the fact that he was  _ letting _ it happen,  _ causing _ it to happen.

Eiji's thumb moved in a slow arc against his bare skin.

Shiro mirrored him, letting the pad of his thumb trace the line of Eiji's shoulder blade through his shirt.

“Shiro…”

Eiji's whole hand was moving, his fingers slipping underneath the hem of Shiro’s shirt, his palm warm and solid against Shiro’s lower back-

Shiro stepped away from him, dizzy and barely breathing, looking anywhere but Eiji's face.

“We'll be late,” he managed, already moving in the direction of his boots, letting the distance between them grow.


	5. Don't You Know?

Shiro was still dazed by the time he and Eiji were approaching the door to the mess hall. They hadn't spoken about what had happened, though Eiji seemed relatively unfazed, if not a little more reserved than he'd been since yesterday afternoon. The almost-silence between them was a blessing; Shiro was at an utter loss, totally incapable of processing what he'd felt when Eiji's hand had slipped under his shirt-

“Shiro?”

He met Eiji’s eye, immediately identifying tension in his shoulders that anyone else might've missed. There was a subtle crease between Eiji's eyebrows, too.

“You're sure it's not too soon? You really think Lance will be okay?”

Shiro breathed a small sigh of relief. This was a function he knew he could perform: reassuring Eiji, helping the team pull through these difficult moments. These were puzzles he could help to solve.

“Staying away won't fix anything,” he said. “It'll take time for things to settle. Putting it off will only set us back as a team.” His hand moved reflexively to Eiji's arm, as if it were his own, as if there were a bruise there he could soothe with gentle pressure. “It might be tough for a while. You can handle it.”

Eiji nodded. “I can.”

Shiro let him go. They walked through the door to the mess hall together.

It was a stark reminder of everything they’d lost, seeing the entirety of their group huddled around a single table in the cavernous hall that could’ve accommodated dozens of Blades. It would’ve made a world of difference to find allies waiting for them here instead of empty halls and little information they could act upon. Shiro knew he should stay optimistic that someone might return- that the Blades were merely out on a mission, making progress in the fight they were all so desperate to win… but he could physically  _ feel  _ the empty space of this place, like a black hole doing its best to siphon his hope away.

Thankfully, he didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought, because one of the two members of the group he hadn’t met yet stood up from the table and headed straight for him as soon as he and Eiji moved into the room. Shiro might’ve found her stature and severe expression intimidating if her features hadn’t been so impossibly, comfortingly familiar.

“Krolia,” he said, extending a hand to her as she approached. “Allura told me how you came to be with us. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“The honor is mine,” she said, accepting Shiro’s hand. Her tone was much softer than Shiro had anticipated. “I owe you a debt of gratitude I could never hope to repay. Thank you for caring for my son when he needed it most.”

Shiro gave a tiny shrug. “Keith has saved my life more than once since then. Neither of you owe me anything.”

“Keith grew into a warrior because you showed him how to,” she responded simply, releasing his hand. She turned to Eiji next. “He assures me that you and Shiro were the same person when he first met you. If that's the case, I meant what I said to you on the Castle of Lions. I owe you my gratitude too."

Eiji shook his head. “I’d prefer another opportunity to earn it, if you’ll allow it.”

“A respectable response. I accept your proposal. Sit with us?”

They were obviously the last to arrive, since everyone else in the group already had food in front of them. Shiro tried not to dwell on the reasons why he and Eiji were running late, but it was difficult to avoid that train of thought with Eiji still so close, sitting right next to him on the bench they were sharing with Lance on Shiro's left and Allura on Eiji's right. It was impossible for him to ignore the fact that he could feel Eiji’s body heat all along his right side, though he did manage to focus on Romelle when Allura introduced her. Luckily he had an excuse to turn his attention back to Eiji afterward, since he’d decided to formally apologize to the group for everything that had happened after Haggar had infiltrated his mind. 

Eiji gracefully entertained questions and concerns and ultimately slipped into a back-and-forth with Hunk and Pidge, who could always be counted upon to keep a conversation alive, for better or for worse.

“...notice any difference between the memories you have from when you were still  _ Shiro _ and the memories they  _ gave  _ you?” Pidge was asking, sounding  _ excited,  _ like she couldn't wait to catalog this particular piece of data.

“I'm not sure what you mean,” Eiji said, speaking quietly.

“Well… like, leaving for Kerberos,” she explained. “You and Shiro were still the same person when that happened. But finding the lions? Forming Voltron for the first time? I know you remember those things happening… but none of it happened to  _ you _ . I wasn't sure if you could tell the difference now.”

Shiro's left hand tightened into a fist under the table. He wondered if anyone else in the group could recognize how tactless the question was, or if he was the only one who didn't think Eiji should have to be constantly reminded of the tragic circumstances of his origin.

“Actually… I'm not sure,” Eiji was saying. “I'd have to think about it. I don’t know if any of my memories are authentically mine.”

“But you feel like they are?” Pidge pressed.

“Yes. I feel like I'm the person who piloted the black lion, and I feel like I was the person who left for Kerberos. I’ve never noticed anything faulty or inconsistent with my memories.”

“But you knew something was wrong,” Lance pointed out, keeping his gaze on the food in front of him. “You told me you did.”

“Yeah, I… I was getting headaches. Based on the data from the pod, I'm guessing it was because of the implants. Haggar could see through my eyes when she wanted to. I didn't know she was doing it, but it… well, it hurt.”

“And you didn't think it was worth telling the rest of the team?” Lance asked, still staring down at his plate. “You didn't think there might've been something really wrong with you?”

“Lance.” Shiro did his best to keep his voice gentle. Lance looked up at him, the bruises around his eyes already deepening to a few shades darker than his irises. “There's a very real chance that I… um.” Shiro took a calming breath. He'd only ever had this conversation with Allura, but it seemed necessary to be fully transparent with everyone on the team just now. “I'm pretty sure I suffer from PTSD,” he explained. “I get headaches all the time. Flashbacks, nightmares, chronic pain…” He gave his head a tiny shake. “There's no way Eiji could've known that those experiences were distinct from his existing symptoms.”

“Oh.” Lance looked wounded. “Shiro… shit. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-”

“It's okay.” Shiro tried to summon a small smile for Lance's benefit. “I'm not trying to invalidate your concerns either. You can express them. I'm just trying to fill in the blanks.”

“Shiro,” Hunk said, distressed, meeting Shiro’s eye from his seat across the table. “You never said anything…”

Keith was watching him from across the table too, looking concerned, though not particularly surprised. Keith didn't miss much. Shiro had no doubt he'd put the pieces together before today.

He was about to answer when he felt pressure on his right hand: Eiji's fingers, squeezing his hand under the table. He stayed silent, staring at an unopened food container, touching the back of Eiji’s hand with the pad of his thumb.

Eiji was the only one who knew what it meant for Shiro to have to say these words out loud.

He was the only one who would ever understand the pain of it.

Shiro tilted his wrist to squeeze Eiji’s hand; Eiji returned the pressure and then pulled it away.

“Shiro said something to me,” Allura finally said, sparing Shiro the task of explaining himself further. “We were tracking his symptoms privately. We'd planned to tell all of you if there was ever a chance the mission might be compromised, but actually, Shiro's flashbacks from his time with the Galra helped you win more than one battle.”

“Myzax, right?” Keith asked. “You didn’t just  _ remember _ him from the arena. You had a flashback.”

Shiro nodded. “Yes.”

“Does it feel like retribution in a way?” Krolia asked, her expression so like Keith’s, Shiro found himself glancing between the two of them. “They took so much from you, but you’ve used it against them at every turn.” Her gaze settled on Eiji. “Both of you.”

“I… hadn’t really thought of it that way,” Shiro admitted. 

“And I'm not sure if I actually have PTSD,” Eiji said, “or if the symptoms I experienced while I was with you were all because of what Haggar… did to me.”

Silence fell at the table. Shiro felt his cheeks growing warm as the rest of the team looked between him and Eiji.

He wondered if he’d feel better if Eiji picked up his hand again… but Eiji didn’t.

“So… your food and shakes are labeled, Shiro!” Hunk eventually said, with a little too much enthusiasm. He gestured to the containers of food and drink that were clustered along the center of the table. “But there’s other food too, so… if you wanted something else…”

“This is perfect,” Shiro told him, choosing one of the shakes. “Thanks, Hunk.” He picked up a container that held something resembling scrambled eggs, opened it, and set it down in front of Eiji, who spared him a small smile before he took his fork in hand.

Thankfully, the topic of conversation shifted after that. Allura and Pidge gave an update about their available resources and intel, and their situation seemed a bit more encouraging than Shiro had anticipated. There were fully powered ships here: a dozen single-pilot fighter jets and three larger vessels with offensive and defensive capabilities. The ships were nowhere near as powerful as the lions, let alone Voltron, but it was encouraging to know that they could leave this base in a hurry if they needed to, or if a tactical opportunity presented itself.

Still, the problem of recharging the lions persisted. Hunk and Pidge had spent the previous evening reviewing the lions’ schematics and searching the base’s records for inspiration, but they were no closer to finding a solution, and Shiro knew they’d all be disturbingly vulnerable until they made some progress on that front. 

Allura encouraged Hunk and Pidge to continue their efforts. She used her tablet to make a suggested list of tasks for the rest of the day, though she encouraged everyone to find time to rest and recover while they were able. The team dispersed then, though Allura remained at the table with Shiro and Eiji as everyone else said goodbye and took their leave. She moved to sit across from them so they could speak to each other more easily.

“I’m pleased that you decided to join us,” she told Eiji. “I think that went as well as we could’ve expected it to.”

“They’re uneasy though,” Eiji said. “Rightfully so. I’d like to come up with another way to ease their minds.”

Allura looked thoughtful. “I think it’s quite sufficient for Shiro to accompany you around the base.”

“But it won’t be practical for long. We’ll need to split up eventually.”

She nodded. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“I might have one,” Shiro said, turning toward Eiji. “You said you had physical symptoms when Haggar was affecting you, right?”

“Yeah. Severe pain, increased heart rate, temporary blindness. From what I can remember, anyway.”

“Right. So what if we monitor your vitals? If you had an extreme spike in your heart rate or blood pressure, we’d know something might be wrong. We could set an alert so I would be notified, even if I’m not with you.”

“Sounds like it’d be worth a try. What about exercise, though? Wouldn’t training set it off?”

“We might be able to account for that,” Allura said. “There’s a treadmill in the medbay. I could take a baseline and set the alert accordingly. I’d suspect you’re in peak physical condition, so I’d wager that having your mind infiltrated would spike your vitals much more dramatically than your typical exercise routine.”

Eiji looked between them, his expression serious.

“Thank you,” he said, softly.

* * *

Shiro stood at a monitoring console with Allura while Eiji ran on the medbay treadmill. He tried to ignore how unnerving it was to see Eiji move like this without one of his arms… but that was impossible, really. If Shiro could’ve removed his prosthetic and handed it over to Eiji right then, he would have.

“He’s doing remarkably well,” Allura murmured, quietly enough for only Shiro to hear.

“Mm. Peak physical condition, like you said.”

Allura shook her head.

“I mean…  _ emotionally.  _ Psychologically. He’s adjusting well to his circumstances, thanks to you.”

Shiro shrugged.

“He’s resilient. I got him through the shock of it, that’s all.”

“That’s hardly  _ all _ , Shiro. You saved his life.”

“ _ Keith  _ saved his life.”

Allura smiled. “We’ll call it a joint effort.” She spared Shiro a sideways glance. “It’s okay to feel good about doing a good thing, you know.”

Shiro didn’t answer. He just turned the notion over in his mind as he stared at the console screen, watching the blinking dot that represented Eiji’s heart rate.

He  _ did  _ feel good about the path he and Eiji were walking together.

Better than he’d felt about anything in a long time.

It was a private sort of joy he couldn’t picture admitting to another living soul.

It was as confusing as it was terrifying.

“Eiji,” Allura called across the room. “You’ve been at a plateau for a bit. Do you think you’ve hit your upper limit?”

“No,” Eiji panted, with a defiance Shiro recognized. He smiled absently, letting his eyes wander down Eiji’s torso as he increased his speed. Eiji wobbled once before he settled into an even stride, unhindered by his missing limb, his feet pounding against the textured belt of the treadmill. Shiro felt a swell of pride at the sight of his double’s body in motion, defying the odds, overcoming this latest set of obstacles.

He felt something else, too, when he noticed the way Eiji’s fitted t-shirt had ridden up around his hips, exposing smooth skin and taut muscle. 

He forced that feeling away, unwilling to give it a name.

“...only attempted liquids so far?”

Shiro blinked, turning toward Allura. “Sorry?”

Allura gave him a scrutinizing look. “I was saying… I noticed you only tried shakes at breakfast.”

“Oh.” Shiro raised a hand to the back of his neck. “Yeah, I, uh… threw up, yesterday. I think I got a little over-ambitious with the solids.”

She nodded sympathetically. “That’s entirely normal, Shiro. I hope you won’t get too discouraged. You shouldn’t wait too long before you try again.”

“I know. I was just… I dunno.” He smiled at her. “Enjoying not feeling like shit?”

She smiled fondly at him in return. “Fair enough.”

The pounding of Eiji’s footsteps started to slow. Shiro turned to watch him settle into a cool-down pace, his chest heaving, his forelock matting with sweat from his brow.

“Not my best,” he panted. “‘S all I got, though.”

“Perfectly exceptional,” Allura assured him, tapping away at the console. “Programming the monitor now.”

Shiro grabbed a towel from a nearby shelf and moved to Eiji’s side, waiting patiently as Eiji reduced the speed to zero and stepped off the treadmill. He felt a very real urge to run the towel through Eiji’s hair; he hated the feeling of sweat clinging to his forelock and dripping down his face, and he guessed Eiji did too. He restrained himself, though, holding the towel out for Eiji instead.

“You know yourself well,” Eiji exhaled, still panting a bit. He accepted the towel and wiped off his face before scrubbing it through his hair. “Guess you know me, too.”

“Maybe so,” Shiro conceded, feeling a little breathless too, though he didn’t have the excuse of exercise to fall back on.

“All set,” Allura called from the console, giving Shiro an opportunity to look away from the reddened flush in Eiji’s cheeks. “May I see your communicator, Shiro?”

She set Shiro’s datapad and communicator to emit a high, wailing alarm if something spiked Eiji’s vitals. In the meantime, Shiro helped Eiji adjust his monitor: a black, circular disc that pressed against his inner forearm, just below his elbow. It was held in place by a semi-elastic strap, which Eiji wouldn’t be able to adjust on his own, so Shiro made a bit of a fuss, making sure the position of it was comfortable. Unsurprisingly, Eiji didn’t argue; he just watched Shiro, his eyebrows drawn together just enough to make Shiro wonder what he was thinking.

Allura excused herself when she’d finished, resting a hand briefly on Eiji’s shoulder before she headed for the engineering lab to meet with Pidge and Hunk. Eiji smiled after her, which made something light and fluttery stir in Shiro’s midsection.

“She trusts you,” Shiro said. 

Eiji rolled his shoulders. “Enough to make sure I’m closely monitored by the most powerful member of the team.”

Shiro shook his head, trying not to interpret the remark as a compliment, though Eiji had certainly made it sound like one.

“She could’ve easily set her own tech to receive the alert too. She didn’t do that. It was meant to be a gesture.”

“All it means is that she trusts  _ you _ , Shiro-” 

Eiji cut himself off with a sharp tilt of his head, as if the physical gesture could stop the train of thought. 

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm not trying to argue.”

"And I'm not trying to patronize,” Shiro told him, matching his softer tone. “I just want you to see how much potential there is for you, here. With us."

Eiji’s eyes roamed over his face as he took a long, slow breath.

“I can see potential,” he said, in a tone that made Shiro wonder whether they were having two different conversations. He was still trying to figure out how to respond when Eiji raised his hand to the back of his neck, looking mildly embarrassed. 

“Uh.” He nodded toward the door. “Want to go… I dunno. Train, some more? I need to figure out if I’ll be worth anything in a fight, if it comes to that. It’ll help us test out the monitor too.”

Shiro nodded, pleased at the suggestion. He hadn’t expected Eiji to be so willing to view himself as a member of the team, even in a peripheral role. 

“The training deck is on this hall. You ready now?”

Eiji’s smile shifted into a teasing thing. “Are  _ you? _ ”

* * *

“Seriously, Shiro?”

“What?”

“I can’t practice dodging if you never try to strike!”

Shiro let out a frustrated exhale, rolling his shoulders as he and Eiji circled each other in the center of a massive training mat. He’d agreed to practice hand-to-hand combat as long as Eiji would let him favor his left arm and refrain from activating any of the enhancements of the prosthetic. 

He was holding back in other ways, though.

“So?” Eiji prompted, his single arm raised defensively in front of his chest. “What’s the deal?”

“I’m just… warming up,” Shiro stalled.

“Bullshit.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. He stopped moving and ran a hand through his silver fringe.

“Eiji,” he said, wishing for the first time that his double couldn’t read him like an open book. “I don’t want to hit you.”

“I didn’t ask you to hit me,” Eiji said, teasing. “I asked you to  _ try. _ ”

Shiro shook his head. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” Eiji got in his space and jostled his shoulder with the heel of his hand. “I don’t need you to knock me out. I know you don’t strike at Keith with full power when you spar.”

“Do  _ not  _ tell him that.”

“C’mon. You know I can take it.”

Shiro nodded slowly. “I know. I’m not sure if  _ I  _ can.”

Eiji’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Shit. Okay.” He was still for a moment; Shiro could feel himself start to blush as his double tried to reason through his reluctance. “It’s not like you don’t have my permission…” Eiji shook his head. “Right. It’s not about that.” He paused, like he was hoping Shiro might explain exactly what it  _ was  _ about.

Shiro had no intention of doing that, though. He didn’t have the words to explain that the idea of raising a hand to Eiji made him physically ill- that the thought of striking him made him want to fold Eiji into his arms and hold on tight. 

“What about grappling?” Eiji suggested, just after the silence had stretched on for a moment too long. “No blows?”

Shiro thought it over. He actually did feel better, now that Eiji knew how reluctant he was to take this too far.

“Sure. We can try.”

They started circling each other again without preamble, operating on shared instincts. 

That was part of the holdup too, Shiro realized. He was squaring off against someone who knew all his best moves by heart. 

He and Eiji had shared a mind. A  _ soul.  _ It was distracting, thinking of all the ways Eiji might be evaluating or anticipating everything he did. How could he fight against someone who had seen through his eyes?

How could he fight someone he didn’t  _ want _ to fight at all-?

_ “Ngh-” _

Eiji had kicked one of his legs right out from under him. He went down hard on his left side and found himself pinned before he’d had time to think of how to block. Eiji was straddling his chest, holding his right wrist by his head with his only hand, pinning his left arm to the mat with his knee.

“You were distracted,” Eiji said. “That shouldn’t have worked.”

“Enemies get distracted too,” Shiro pointed out, testing the pressure of Eiji’s hand around his wrist; Eiji’s fingers may as well have been made of titanium, his grip bordering on painful. “Or they might rely too much on their guns. The practice is worthwhile.”

“You were distracted,” Eiji repeated softly, his expression vaguely concerned. “Did I hurt you? Taking you down?”

Shiro moved his mind through his major muscle groups, checking for discomfort.

“No.”

Eiji nodded. He leaned forward a bit, so that their noses were about six inches apart. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. 

“Right. So you won’t hurt me either, Shiro. I trust you.”

He eased off of Shiro’s limbs and stood, extending his hand. Shiro accepted it and let Eiji pull him to his feet, feeling oddly reassured, along with a complicated tangle of other emotions he couldn’t begin to unravel.

He kept an eye on Eiji’s feet as they started circling each other again, wondering if Eiji might defy expectation and attempt a similar move… he didn’t, though, and Shiro managed to catch Eiji’s wrist as his arm shot out in an attempted grab. Eiji was ready for that; he tugged down  _ hard _ as he dropped to his knees, yanking Shiro just enough to stagger him. He got his arm around Shiro’s calf and finished the job, bringing him down to the mat. Shiro smiled as his right shoulder collided with the firm padding, impressed.

“Nice one-  _ hnn-! _ ”

Eiji pinned Shiro’s arm to the floor with one knee and dug into his ribs with the other, scrambling for enough purchase to restrain Shiro’s other arm… but that would be nearly impossible, and they both knew it. If they’d been looking to do some real damage, Eiji could’ve seriously wounded Shiro with his feet or his knees, or gotten a leg around his neck, but there was almost no way he could fully pin Shiro to the floor and hold him there.

Shiro drove this point home by digging his heels into the floor and flipping Eiji over, pinning him easily with a hand and a knee.

“Good,” he said, smiling down at Eiji, noticing that he was already pink in the cheeks and breathing shallow. That struck him as odd, since he wasn’t winded at all himself... until he remembered that Eiji had just spent half an hour pushing his upper limit on a treadmill. He couldn’t blame him for feeling the fatigue. “Again?”

Eiji blinked, like he’d been stunned.

“Eiji?”

“Uhm.” Eiji flexed his fingers, moving his wrist in Shiro’s grasp. He finally met Shiro with a determined smile. “Yeah. Again.”

They moved through a series of similar rounds. Eiji adjusted and updated his technique each time, which Shiro found downright thrilling. It was easy to forget about the damage they could do to each other when Eiji was laughing his way out of a hold, using his feet and his legs and his torso in entirely new ways, teasing and trash-talking to the point of distraction.

“...seriously gonna let me hold you down? I have  _ one arm _ , Shiro, I shouldn’t be able to  _ hold  _ you at all-”

“ _ Nnnhh-  _ Jesus, Eiji, you’re  _ heavy- _ ”

“And who’s fault is that? You’ve got dense DNA, Shirogane-”

Shiro let out a muffled chuckle, squirming under Eiji’s weight. Eiji had finally seized an opportunity to pin one of Shiro’s arms between their bodies, so that his left hand was free to hold Shiro’s other arm against the floor. The hold was tenuous at best, but it  _ was  _ a hold.

Of course, Shiro had both legs free, which meant that he could maneuver out of it whenever he wanted to-

“C’mon! Use those legs- or that thick skull, maybe-”

-a fact that had apparently  _ not  _ escaped Eiji’s notice.

“Just letting you enjoy your  _ very minor  _ victory,” Shiro teased. “Hopefully it’ll last you for the next five rounds-”

“I’ll get you down before that, asshole-”

“You’ll try your very best, I’m sure-”

“C’MON!” Eiji laughed. “Enough talk, show me what you can-  _ nngh- _ ”

Shiro used his knee and his hip to destabilize Eiji just enough to get his arm free. It was easy from there, flipping Eiji onto his back, straddling his torso to hold him down. They went on giggling for a moment, both of them flushed and breathing hard now, endorphins flowing freely from the shared exertion. Shiro let his gaze wander as he caught his breath, noticing the moisture that was clinging to Eiji’s long, dark lashes, and the sweat that was matting his hair against his forehead…

He let go of Eiji’s shoulder and used his forearm to wipe the sweat from Eiji’s brow.

(Eiji stopped laughing.)

He looked at the mess he’d made of Eiji’s hair, then used his fingertips to smooth it back, tucking the strands together to keep them away from Eiji’s forehead-

(“Shiro…”)

He looked at the scar across Eiji’s nose, wondering if the phantom pain of it ever woke him at night-

(“Shiro,  _ stop _ -”)

He let the pad of his forefinger move along the perfect edge of it, wondering if Eiji  _ hurt _ the way he hurt-

_ “SHIRO-” _

Shiro’s wrist communicator started to  _ wail. _

His vision blurred around the edges as he was flooded with panic. He tightened his grip on Eiji’s wrist and curled his other arm around Eiji’s head, leaning even closer to examine his eyes.

_ “No,”  _ he choked out. “It’s impossible, she  _ can’t- _ ”

“She isn’t-”

“Eiji, what-?”

“Get off me, Shiro-”

“But… you said-”

“I know! Get the fuck  _ off  _ me, it’s not  _ her- _ ”

The razor-sharp edge in Eiji’s voice had Shiro easing off of him, pulling him into a sitting position. Eiji let him do that much before he bumped his arm away with his elbow, and then he rested his forearm on his knee and pressed his forehead against it. Shiro watched his shoulders rise and fall with a slow, effortful breath.

The communicator stopped wailing.

“Eiji…”

Eiji lifted his head, flexing and unflexing his fingers.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“But… what  _ happened? _ ”

Eiji stared back at him for a moment, looking almost…  _ sad. _

“You know what happened, Shiro.”

Shiro’s mind spun. What could’ve spiked Eiji’s vitals so drastically? So suddenly? Eiji was right, it hadn’t been  _ her _ \- it couldn’t be, it was impossible, Eiji was  _ safe _ -

“Shiro.” 

Eiji had moved closer to him. His knuckles were under Shiro’s chin, tilting his head up until their eyes met… his fingers were sliding through Shiro’s damp hair, smoothing it back from his forehead…

“You know what happened,” Eiji said, softly.

He pressed his forehead against Shiro’s temple.

When he spoke, Shiro felt the brush of his lips at the corner of his mouth.

_ “Don’t you know?”  _ Eiji said.


	6. I Need to Be Invited

It took Shiro a moment to get his bearings with Eiji so close, with their cheeks and foreheads pressed together, with their hot, shaky breath mingling between them.

As soon as he did, though, he was in for another shock: he'd instinctively moved one hand to rest around the back of Eiji's head.

"Shiro," Eiji all-but whispered. His lips and his breath were feather-light against Shiro's cheek. "Please tell me I'm not wrong about this."

_ Wrong about what? _

Shiro didn't bother asking the question.

He knew what.

He knew that he and Eiji were crashing into each other, desperate for a kind of comfort they couldn't - _ wouldn't _\- seek from anyone else.

"You're not," Shiro told him, letting his lips brush against Eiji's cheek as he said the words.

Eiji's hand slid down his neck; two of his fingertips _ pressed _ under his jaw, over his pulse point, where Shiro knew he'd be able to feel the wild thrum of his racing heart.

_ "Me too," _Eiji whispered.

Shiro swallowed, feeling the pressure of Eiji's fingers amplified with the movement of his throat.

He wondered how long Eiji would stay like this if he permitted it. Could this be enough for him? Would he eventually pull away, satisfied with a brief moment of mutually desired proximity?

Or would this encounter leave him bereft, feeling uncertain and unsettled, wondering if he'd done irreparable damage to this fledgling bond?

Would he take this a step further if Shiro never did?

Shiro let his fingertips slide over the velvet-soft hair at the back of Eiji's head. He knew the answer to that, of course.

Eiji hadn't stayed here with him to _ take. _

Eiji was grateful for every gentle touch, every gesture of genuine kindness.

Eiji was here because Shiro had told him he was _ wanted. _

That hadn't been a lie, or an exaggeration born of loneliness.

Shiro knew that, now that he was on the brink of _ whatever came next. _

He tilted his head, letting his nose nudge against Eiji's cheek.

He felt Eiji's breath on his lips, leaned into the gentle heat of it, and kissed him.

It lasted for an instant. It was all he could manage. He let his chin drop onto Eiji's shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut, entirely overwhelmed.

_ "Eiji..." _He let the thought linger, unfinished.

Eiji's hand moved soothingly over his back.

"It's okay," Eiji said. "Later."

Shiro nodded, his eyes still shut tight.

They breathed together until Shiro's heartbeat was slow and steady, until he was sure Eiji's was, too.

"Shiro?" 

Shiro smiled absently at the quiet, familiar sound of Eiji’s voice.

"Yeah?"

"I have an idea about recharging the Lions."

Shiro lifted his head; Eiji's expression was soft and open.

"Tell me?"

"I will." Eiji's hand moved onto Shiro's neck again, his fingertips searching, like they were seeking more proof of Shiro's beating heart. "Will you take me to see Black?"

* * *

Shiro thought it felt appropriate, seeing the Black Lion again for the first time with Eiji by his side. It was where they’d first met, though Eiji hadn’t known it at the time. Black had been the first to trust Eiji, to see beyond his tragic origin and the crimes he’d been forced to commit. Black had seen inside his heart and deemed him worthy- of acceptance, redemption… maybe even honor.

Shiro hung back as Eiji approached her, giving him room to sort out his own thoughts on the matter. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Eiji, trying to reconcile everything Haggar had made him do with the fact that Black had stolen him back from oblivion. He wondered if Eiji would ever feel truly glad for the second chance Black had given him, or if he would always linger in a state of melancholy resignation, content to _ atone _ rather than _ thrive. _

He wondered what Eiji’s expression would show if he had the chance to pilot Black again, or what his voice might sound like over the comms of Voltron or a fighter or a galaxy class vessel. He _ ached _, suddenly, to see Eiji fly- to watch that familiar smile transform into something triumphant.

Eiji’s footfalls bounced off the faraway walls, echoing in the massive hangar where the team had stored the Lions alongside the fighters and larger vessels the Blades had left behind. They’d been lucky to find an entrance big enough for the Lions to fit through, and they assumed the Blades must have had a similarly sized ship stored here at one point, though it wasn’t here now. The Lions stood in a V formation with Black at the front, eerily still and silent, broadcasting the calamity of their depleted resources.

Eiji stopped in front of Black, looking up at her face, moving his open palm away from his hip in a gesture of greeting.

“Hey,” he murmured, just barely loud enough for Shiro to hear. “We’re both in rough shape, huh, girl? You’re looking much prettier than I am, though.” He paused; Shiro watched his shoulders rise and fall in a silent sigh. “Thank you,” he eventually said. “For saving Keith. For… saving me. I’m gonna try to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.” 

Black stayed silent. Shiro doubted she’d spare the power it would take to activate her systems and open her mouth to them, even if she wanted to.

Eiji sank carefully onto his knees, keeping his chin tilted up toward his longtime companion.

“Shiro?”

Shiro approached and kneeled on the floor next to him. They stayed like that for a moment, still and silent like the Lions, until Eiji moved his hand into the space between them. 

Shiro picked it up and held it, automatically, as if it were something he'd done a million times before.

Eiji let out a long, slow breath, keeping his chin tilted toward the ceiling.

"I thought it might help if we came here together," he said. "I thought, if she could see that you agreed with her… or, if she knew you thought I should be here now… maybe she'd let me in again. Maybe she'd listen to me."

Shiro nodded. "I'm sure she will, if she can." He squeezed Eiji's hand. "You don't want to try the manual hatch?"

Eiji shook his head. "I need to be invited."

Shiro risked a glance at Eiji's face. He looked determined… and a little sad, too.

"I'll help," Shiro told him. "We can call her together."

Eiji gifted him a small smile. He turned toward Black again and let his eyes fall closed, and Shiro watched him for another moment before he followed suit. He relaxed his face and his shoulders, leaning into the blackness behind his closed eyelids, willing it to surround him. 

The idea of making contact with the Black Lion's consciousness again might've terrified him under different circumstances, given the time he'd spent drifting in darkness as a helpless, formless entity. But in the here and now, Eiji's fingers were squeezing around his hand, anchoring him, holding him safe and steady in this corporal reality. Shiro squeezed back, letting part of his consciousness linger in the physical certainty of their clasped hands, even as he reached out in search of the Black Lion's mind.

_ Please, _ he petitioned the void. _ You were right. He's good. He belongs with us. Please let him help. _

He stared into the blackness.

He examined the pressure of Eiji's thumb digging into the back of his hand.

He felt something else: a warm, soothing touch, like a summer breeze ruffling his hair… or like Eiji’s fingers moving through it. 

They weren’t, though. They were tangled with his own, on the stone floor between them. Could he feel Eiji in the void, too? Could their minds still touch the way they used to?

He felt that summer breeze again - that comforting almost-touch - even stronger than before. He opened his eyes and looked up… just in time to see the Black Lion's eyes gleam with golden light.

Eiji let out a low, quiet laugh.

"There you are," he said. 

* * *

Shiro let Eiji set the pace as they climbed up to the manual hatch, though the consideration wasn't really necessary. Eiji's speed was beyond impressive, given his missing limb. Shiro could see how he tended to lower his center of gravity, using his hips and legs for balance to make up for the instability of his upper body. 

He was adaptable and efficient.

He was_ strong. _

Shiro had to wonder whether he'd compensate half as well if he had to perform without his prosthetic, or if Eiji's unique circumstances - his eagerness to prove himself - had inspired a unique standard of competence.

He wasn’t just _ strong. _He was exceptional.

He was _ familiar _ too, Shiro realized, watching him from two rungs below as he scaled the outer hull of the Black Lion. Not only because they used to share the same mind, but because Eiji so resembled a version of himself he’d spent years imagining after he’d been diagnosed with the disease he knew would claim his arm and, eventually, his life. He hadn’t given up, then. He’d started setting goals, imagining milestones along the pathway of his future and sprinting toward them. He’d pictured himself flying for as long as he could, hurtling through space toward distant stars until his muscles deteriorated and his arm finally failed him. He’d pictured himself moving forward even after that, however he could manage to.

Just like Eiji was now.

He paused on the ladder, watching Eiji vault through the manual hatch, wondering if he’d ever be able to explain any of this to him. He deserved to hear it. He deserved to _ know. _

He deserved so much more than Shiro could give him.

Shiro let himself feel the anguish of it for a moment, swallowing hard before he followed Eiji through the hatch.

* * *

They made their way to the front of the cockpit and stood together in front of the blank, silent console- another stark reminder of their dire circumstances.

"I can still feel her," Eiji murmured. "It's like she's half asleep."

"Yeah. She doesn't want to waste power. I think she woke up just enough to hear you out." Shiro touched Eiji's shoulder, lightly. "So… want to tell me about your idea?"

Eiji nodded slowly. "It's _ just _ an idea. I don't want to tell anyone else on the team until I have some proof that it might actually work. Partly because I don't want to get their hopes up… but mostly, it's because… well, if I told them what I want to try to do, I'm not sure if they would trust my motives."

Shiro moved into Eiji's line of sight. "I will, though."

"I know. That's one of the reasons I wanted you to come here with me."

“Well, I’m here. Let’s have it.”

Eiji looked thoughtful.

“How do you think Haggar was able to infiltrate my mind?”

Shiro tilted his head, wondering if it was supposed to be a trick question. “Uh… the implants?”

“Across galaxies? Do you know of any Galra tech with that kind of range?”

_ Oh, _ Shiro thought, feeling a little silly that the notion hadn’t occurred to him. The implants were only one piece of the puzzle. Eiji was speculating about how they _ worked. _

“No,” Shiro admitted. “Not tech.”

“Right. Not tech. _ Magic. _”

Shiro nodded. “Quintessence.”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to remember more about how it felt when she was inside my head. It was painful and… sickening. Like a knife wound. But there was this _ flow _ to it, too, like when we’re piloting Voltron as a team. Exchanging energy. _ Sharing _ it. So I was thinking… what if we could hack into that flow? Or… what if _ I _could?”

“Hack into the quintessence flow? From where?”

Eiji’s gaze shifted down toward the floor. “From her. Haggar. Using the implants.”

Shiro’s stomach turned over. “No,” he blurted, his voice far too loud for the confined space. “Eiji, you _ can’t- _”

“I can,” Eiji said evenly, meeting his eye. “I would, for you. Without question.”

Shiro swallowed hard.

_ For me? _

“But… how would we stop her from controlling you all over again?”

“I’m guessing Pidge and Hunk would have a few ideas about that, if I asked them to analyze the implants.”

“Okay… and then what? You’re going to _ steal _her quintessence?”

“I’m going to ask the Black Lion to help me do that, yeah.” Eiji tilted his head to one side. “And you, if you still believe I’m on your side.”

Shiro scowled at him. “Of _ course _I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well… if I were still working with Haggar, I’d probably try to give you a reason to switch the implants back on so I could communicate with her.”

Shiro stared. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him.

It would probably occur to Lance, though. Allura too.

“Okay… point taken.” Shiro ran a hand through his hair, feeling thoroughly unsettled. He hated everything about this plan, especially the fact that it was the only one any of them had come up with so far. “So what now? You want to test the theory somehow?”

“Yeah. I want to see if we can move quintessence between the Lions. If we can channel quintessence from one Lion to another, we should be able to channel it from Haggar to the Black Lion, and to the rest of the Lions from here. Can you see how much power each Lion has without activating the console?”

Shiro nodded. He took his datapad out of his pocket and accessed the most recent diagnostic scans of the Lions. The Green Lion was the most efficient because of Pidge’s many upgrades; it was currently charged to 14%. The rest of the Lions clocked in between five and nine percent.

They had never entered a combat situation with any of the Lions under 20% before. It was barely enough power to fly to the other side of this solar system.

Shiro timestamped and saved the data log, then set the datapad down on the console.

“Okay,” he said, meeting Eiji’s eye. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Eiji rolled his shoulders, shifting his weight. “I… um.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a nervous smile. “I could hear her better when we were…”

Shiro caught Eiji flexing his fingers out of the corner of his eye.

He took a step toward him, picked up Eiji’s hand, and threaded their fingers together.

“Like this?”

Eiji cleared his throat. “Yes.”

They closed their eyes at the same time, sparing each other further analysis of their shared desire for physical contact.

“I think we should ask her to draw some power from Green,” Eiji said. “Just a fraction of a percent.”

“Agreed.”

Shiro pictured the power meter that was usually displayed on Black’s console. He made it three-dimensional in his mind, as if it were something he could reach out and touch: a glass case with glowing, purple liquid rising up from the bottom-

The purple liquid transformed into shimmering particles of opalescent light.

_ Quintessence. _

Shiro hadn’t imagined that. That idea had come from… _ Eiji. _He felt Eiji’s mind brushing up against his own, just like it had when he’d been piloting Black in Shiro’s stead.

It was like waking from a nightmare to a warm embrace.

It was like being reunited with a lost, treasured thing.

It was like being really and truly _ safe _.

Eiji squeezed his hand, as if to say _ I can feel you, too. _

Shiro squeezed back, then took a breath, trying to focus in on the crucial task at hand.

He held the image of the quintessence in his mind and reached toward the vast, weighty presence that was the Black Lion’s consciousness. He asked her to add more to her meter, to access the flow of energy that powered Green and pull some of it toward herself-

He felt a dull thud of discomfort, as if he’d been cuffed around the head. 

He opened his eyes and found Eiji looking back at him.

“You feel that?” 

Shiro rubbed at the back of his head with his free hand. “Uh huh. She didn’t like that idea at all.”

“No. She won’t _ take _ quintessence _ . _ Not from one of the other Lions.”

“Maybe she’d give some of her own?”

“Maybe. Worth a shot.”

“Red?”

“Yes.”

Their eyes fell closed again. Shiro repeated his visualization exercise, except this time, he pictured the Black Lion’s quintessence flowing out of the glass case and toward the Red Lion, which had the least amount of power. He felt warm, subtle pressure somewhere near the base of his skull: approval, gentle and soothing, like the feeling of Eiji’s lips pressing against his cheek-

His eyes snapped open. Eiji was looking at him again, his cheeks turning pink, his lips parted in surprise. 

Shiro heard the hammering thud of his own heartbeat. 

The image hadn’t been Eiji’s.

Shiro had conjured it up all on his own and placed it right into Eiji’s mind.

“Um.” Eiji squeezed his hand once and then let go. “I think something happened that time.”

“Oh.” Shiro blinked. “Okay. Right.” He picked up his datapad and ran a new diagnostic to assess the Lions’ power levels… and sure enough, the Red Lion’s meter had increased from 5.42% to 5.47%. He held up the datapad for Eiji to see.

“Hypothesis confirmed,” he said. “We can ask the Lions to transfer quintessence to each other.”

“So if we can figure out how to redirect enough quintessence to Black…”

Shiro nodded slowly.

“We can recharge them all.”

* * *

Shiro and Eiji spent some time discussing how they should go about pitching the plan to the team. They knew the idea would make Lance uneasy at best, and they both suspected Keith would try to shoot it down for the same reason Shiro wished he could- namely, that Eiji would be placing himself in potentially catastrophic physical and psychological danger. Shiro was still trying to wrap his mind around that fact himself; he was in no mood to argue the point with Keith.

They ultimately decided to share the idea with Allura first. If they could win her approval, they could ask Pidge and Hunk to further analyze the implants and try to gain control over their functionality. The tech was designed to link Eiji’s mind with Haggar’s; Pidge and Hunk would need to figure out if Eiji could maintain that link without relinquishing control.

They’d managed to miss lunch by the time they’d talked it through, much to Shiro’s relief. He knew he needed to start reacclimating to solid food as soon as possible, and he didn’t feel inclined to repeat the experiment in front of the entire team. He sent Allura a message asking her to bring some food down to Eiji’s quarters, and she was already waiting outside Eiji’s door by the time they made it back. She was happy to join them at the table inside and hear them out, though she didn’t give them an answer right away.

“If you were able to reestablish your link with Haggar,” she said, folding her hands on the table in front of her, “it’s likely that she’d be able to locate us. We’d need to be prepared to engage with her.”

“I’d suggest that we should engage,” Eiji said. “We’d need to encourage her to channel quintessence. The best way to do that would be to provoke her into a fight.”

“We’d best be prepared to win that fight.” Allura looked between them. “You’d both remain with the Black Lion, yes? I’m guessing Keith and I would be the ones provoking?”

“And Lance, maybe,” Shiro said. He didn’t miss the flicker of emotion that showed in Allura’s expression at the suggestion. “Haggar tends toward close combat. It narrows her view. Lance could provide support from a distance.”

“Mm.” Allura moved her hands into her lap. She was quiet for a moment, staring down at the table, her brow furrowed. Shiro stole a glance at Eiji and found his expression hard to read, but he knew he must be feeling apprehensive. Whatever else Allura might be feeling right now, it was possible that _ suspicion _might be on the list. 

He resisted the urge to reach for Eiji’s hand under the table.

“It’s worth exploring,” Allura finally said. “I’ll brief Hunk and Pidge and ask them to proceed with a deeper analysis of the implants. I agree that we should keep this between the five of us until that’s done.” She looked at Shiro. “Could you meet me later? I have a few other things I’d like to run by you.”

Shiro swallowed. That was code for _ we need to talk _, and he and Eiji both knew it.

“Of course,” he told her. “Let me know when you’re free.”

She nodded. “Thank you both for looking into this. I’ll speak with you later.” She stood up and rested a hand lightly on Shiro’s back. “Just have a few bites for me, Shiro, yes?”

He smiled up at her. “Yes, Princess.”

She let herself out.

Shiro didn’t seal the door behind her.

He stared at the tray of food and drinks she’d brought, suddenly very aware that he and Eiji were alone together. They’d been alone in the Black Lion, of course, and shared more than one moment that had set his heart racing… but it was entirely different, being within a few feet of the bed they’d shared together the night before, knowing that they’d…

_ Kissed. _

Shiro had barely begun to process it. He’d never shared physical intimacy with someone without understanding his own intentions, or his partner’s, for that matter. Embracing each other… sharing a bed… holding hands… all of those things had made sense. They knew each other. They brought each other comfort. They valued each other in a way that was wholly unique.

_ They _were wholly unique. Shiro doubted there was any kind of precedent for this, in all the vastness of the universe.

So it was impossible for him to know if _ kissing _made sense. 

He hadn’t thought about it beforehand. It hadn’t been planned. It had just felt _ right _for the moment, like it was the next logical step. He’d felt like Eiji had wanted it from him… and he’d found that it was something he wanted to give. He’d done it without thinking, and it had felt…

Terrifying.

Lovely.

_ Incredible. _

“...you okay, Shiro?”

His eyes snapped up from the table. “Mmh? Sorry. What?”

Eiji winced a little. 

_ He’s worried, _ Shiro thought. _ Maybe he doesn’t know where to go from here, either. _

“I was just asking if you wanted to try some food together.” Eiji gestured toward one of the protein-based bars on the tray. “I’ll split it with you if you want.”

“Yeah.” Shiro forced himself to smile. “That’d be good.” He cut the bar in half, placed the plate on the table between them, and handed Eiji a fork. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to zone out like that.”

“It’s okay. We’re both entitled to our private thoughts.” Eiji looked down at the plate and sliced off a bite of the bar with his fork. “Unless you wanted to… share.”

“I do,” Shiro said honestly. “Just… um. Later, maybe?”

Eiji smiled at him. “Whenever you’re ready.” He speared his bite with his fork and popped it into his mouth. Shiro did the same, reminding himself to go slow, to focus on the pleasant flavor instead of the weight and texture of the solid food in his mouth. 

“So,” Eiji prompted, trying and failing to sound casual. “We probably could’ve postponed some of our conversation earlier. I mean, we could’ve met the team for lunch. You didn’t want to?”

Shiro swallowed his bite. He shook his head. “Guess I wanted some privacy for this.”

Eiji raised an eyebrow. “Is this private enough? I mean, I know I was… _ intense _, yesterday. I was just-”

“I know,” Shiro interrupted, slicing himself another bite. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Okay. It’s just… I’d give you space, if you needed it.”

Shiro looked down at the plate. “I don’t,” he said quietly.

“Oh. Okay. That’s… good.”

Shiro smiled, trying to imagine what it must feel like for Eiji to know he was the only person Shiro wanted to see right now. 

He hoped that it felt _ warm _ and _ safe _.

He’d chewed and swallowed three more bites before he realized his half of the bar was almost gone.

“Water?” Eiji was asking, sliding a metal bottle in his direction. Shiro picked it up and took a sip, grateful for the reminder.

“Thanks. Guess I got distracted.”

“That’s good, though. How’s your stomach feel?”

“Pretty normal, actually. Whatever that means.”

Eiji chuckled. “Yeah. Whatever that means.” He chewed and swallowed his last bite of bar. “So… we should do something relaxing for a while. Give the food a chance to settle? Maybe eat some more later if you’re feeling up to it?”

Shiro finished his last bite too.

“Wise words. What’d you have in mind?”

“Watch a movie? Read a book? Listen to some of that Altean orchestra music you like?”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

Eiji looked a little sheepish. “Actually… no. I figured my tastes must’ve just _ changed _ or something, after I got captured again. I could remember that it used to relax me, but I’ve just never felt that way, ever since…”

"Mm. Ever since you’ve been _ you. _”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… wow.” Shiro scrutinized Eiji for a moment, letting his eyes wander over the set of his brow, the dark spread of his lashes, the shape of his mouth. “I… wonder what else is different.”

Eiji’s cheeks turned to a darker shade of pink. “So do I.”

Shiro wondered whether his heart rate would’ve set off Eiji’s monitor by now, if their positions were reversed.

“So… what kind of music _ do _you like?”

Eiji burst out laughing; Shiro realized immediately how the question had sounded.

“You want to know what I do for a living, too?” Eiji teased. “Find out if I have any pets? How I like my coffee?”

Shiro was laughing in spite of himself too. “Wait… let me guess. Intergalactic freedom fighter? You like dogs but you’ve always wanted a cat? Three sugars, cream on the side?”

Eiji shook his head, his grin spreading even wider. “Nope. No sugar.”

Shiro gaped. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously! Hunk’s coffee is unbelievable. Sugar masks the flavor too much.”

Shiro shook his head, incredulous. “Are you _ sure _we used to be the same person?”

Eiji let out a quiet laugh. He rested his hand cautiously on Shiro’s arm.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

He let the pressure linger for a moment while they watched each other, smiling, and then he broke eye contact, reclaiming his hand to take a sip of water.

“And to answer your question,” he said, standing up from the table, “I have some music flagged in the database that I think you might like. Want to grab your datapad?”

He kicked off his boots and slid onto the bed, moving close to the wall before he stretched out on his back. Shiro took a moment to stare at the person-sized space he’d left on the bed next to him, acknowledging the tacit invitation.

He grabbed his datapad, approached the bed, kicked off his boots, and laid down next to Eiji, leaving a couple inches of space between their shoulders.

He logged into the datapad and held it up for Eiji, who seemed to be overcoming his apprehension about being allowed access to the team’s database. He tapped at the screen for a few seconds before the speaker underneath the viewscreen filled the room with sound.

The music was orchestral, though there was an undercurrent of momentum to it, a rhythm that gathered speed and excitement as it pressed forward. It could’ve been a piece from a film score leading to a dramatic scene or a moment of vulnerability, if it weren’t for the unfamiliar sounds, made by instruments Shiro had never seen.

It was exciting and haunting and _ beautiful. _

“I love it,” Shiro murmured. He’d let his eyes fall closed.

Eiji didn’t answer.

* * *

“Shiro? It’s just me. Time to wake up now, okay?”

Shiro’s eyelids fluttered open. Eiji was there, facing him, only a few inches away.

His hand was there too, in the space between them, and Shiro’s was on top of it, holding it in place against the bed.

“I fell asleep?” he mumbled.

“I think I did too, for a bit. It was the music.”

“Oh. Right.”

Eiji’s hand moved a little. Shiro didn’t let go.

“Um. Your datapad. It was vibrating a minute ago.”

Shiro licked his lips, trying to free himself from the grasp of sleep.

“Probably Allura.”

“Yeah. So… do you want to check it?”

Shiro felt a pang.

He didn’t want to check it.

He didn’t want to think about what Allura wanted to say to him.

He didn’t want to think about the war, or the mission, or anything else that might be happening outside these four walls.

He wanted to stay right here, feeling the warmth of Eiji’s skin against his prosthetic palm-

“Shiro.”

Eiji had moved closer. He was less than an inch away. He’d freed his hand from Shiro’s grasp, and it was resting on Shiro’s neck now. The heel of it was covering Shiro’s pulse point.

_ “Shiro…” _

Eiji’s lashes fluttered. His cheeks were flushed, his lips left parted, like they’d meant to speak further but forgotten how.

Shiro remembered holding Eiji’s hand on the floor in the hangar, and what Eiji had said to him then.

_ I need to be invited. _

He watched the cool silver-gray of Eiji's eyes.

He nodded his head.

Eiji kissed him.

  



	7. Until You

Shiro was momentarily stunned by the force of it. Eiji kissed him like he’d been starving for it, like they were reunited lovers making up for months of absence. He fit their mouths together perfectly, as if he had years of muscle memory guiding the tilt of his chin and the posture of his lips, and he let out a sighing, exhaled breath against Shiro's cheek as he leaned into the pressure. His hand was warm and strong where it was wrapped around the side of Shiro’s neck,  _ holding  _ without  _ confining _ , further conveying the urgency of this most intimate act. The pad of his thumb  _ pressed  _ into the tender spot behind Shiro’s ear…

And Shiro was lost to it. He made a muffled, pleading sound against Eiji’s mouth, forcing his chin forward to match his show of urgency, opening his mouth just enough to redouble the pressure on Eiji’s upper lip. If he’d been aware of what his prosthetic hand was doing, he would’ve felt the fabric of Eiji’s shirt compressing inside his closed fist, which was braced impossibly tight between his shoulder blades.

He wasn’t aware of it, though. He was only aware of the deep, insistent pressure of Eiji’s mouth and the low, stifled rumble of Eiji's voice as they came together. Shiro caught the vibration of it against his lower lip and  _ licked _ , instinctively, lapping the tip of his tongue against Eiji’s upper lip-

_ “Mmh-” _

Eiji made that rich, warm sound again, letting it linger for a fraction of an instant before he opened his mouth and pressed his tongue past Shiro’s parted lips. 

_ “Nhh-” _

Shiro tilted his chin, caressing the side of Eiji’s tongue with his own, letting him press deeper in. 

Eiji slid his hand down to Shiro’s side, grasping there for leverage, pressing their bodies flush together from their hips to their ankles.

Shiro locked his entire forearm against the line of Eiji’s spine, feeling dizzy, like he could be dreaming, like gravity would’ve failed him if Eiji’s arm weren’t wrapped around his waist. 

It was overwhelming, being kissed exactly how he would’ve asked to be, if there were words to describe the precise and nuanced slide and pressure of lips and tongue, and if he'd been inclined to speak those words out loud.

He never had been. He'd never found a way to explain it to anyone- how he craved the feeling of the tip of someone's tongue caressing gentle strokes along the side of his own. He'd never said those words out loud; he'd only ever held it as a treasured fantasy, saving it for a partner he could better communicate with, or for when he was alone in his room, on his back or on his knees in the dark, wishing for things he couldn't bring himself to seek out in the low light of a bar or the listings of some anonymous app. 

Eiji knew all of that. Eiji didn't need him to say the words out loud.

Eiji was the only person in the universe who knew how he wanted to be kissed.

Shiro felt the notion penetrate until it had settled somewhere deep under his ribs, a tender fullness that made it hard to breathe and even harder to think, a piece of himself that Eiji was mirroring back to him. He let that fullness build until it was something truly physical, something that demanded action… and then he slid his hand around the back of Eiji's head, held him steady, and took the lead. He licked slowly into Eiji's mouth, just like Eiji had done for him, stroking and caressing the way he knew Eiji had always craved-

Eiji forced his hips forward, pressing their bodies together… and Shiro could feel that he was hard.

He didn't stop what he was doing, but he did feel his heart leap into the back of his throat, the pounding of it audible over the barely-there sounds of sliding lips, exploring tongues and muffled groans of affirmation.

He hadn't even  _ thought _ about sex until this very second.

He didn't even know if it was something his body could  _ do  _ anymore.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to will away the blind terror of that thought-

_ "Hey." _

He opened his eyes. Eiji was still so close, the tips of their noses were touching.

"Shiro…" Eiji's hand was moving down his neck and over his shoulder. He frowned a little at the tension he felt there- tension Shiro hadn't noticed until Eiji's careful hand was moving over his hardened muscles.

He tried to let go of the tightness in his shoulders. He couldn't.

"What's wrong?" Eiji's voice was impossibly soft. He kissed Shiro's lips, maybe with more sweetness Shiro had ever felt from another living soul. "You know you can tell me, right? You can tell me anything."

Shiro nodded. He knew that was true.

"I… you're…" He swallowed, licked his lips. "My… body? It's…"

Eiji brought his hand up to Shiro's face and touched his cheek, bumping their noses together.

"Your body is  _ perfect. _ " He kissed Shiro's lips again. "You haven't tried to… um. You haven't been hard yet?"

_ "No," _ Shiro whispered.

Eiji nodded. "It took me some time. When I was first…  _ me, _ I mean. I couldn't, at first. But I was by myself, so…"

Shiro took a shaky breath, already starting to calm as he listened to Eiji's soft, reassuring voice.

"And now?"

"It's better. But I haven't… I mean, I've never even kissed anyone, since I've been  _ me. _ Barely even thought about it. Um. Until  _ you." _

The words prodded at that new, tender place near Shiro's heart. He raised his hand to Eiji’s face and  _ touched _ : light fingertips against his cheek, the pad of his thumb at the edge of his scar. He traced up Eiji’s temple to touch the smooth strands of his forelock, brushing it gently back from his forehead. Eiji’s lashes fluttered, like butterfly wings in a breeze, the shine of them shifting until he finally let his eyes fall closed.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t ask you for anything more,” Eiji murmured. “I know I have no right. But, please… don’t stop, Shiro.”

Shiro kissed one of his closed eyelids.

“You can ask,” he said. “You have every right.”

Eiji winced a little, like it hurt to hear the words.

“Let me touch you?” he pleaded, softly, his eyes still squeezed shut. “I… don’t know what to do with all these things I  _ feel _ . I can’t let you  _ be this way  _ without giving something back to you.”

Shiro traced the line of his brow with the pad of his thumb, trying to ease the tension there. “Be what way?”

“You know what way. You’re… you act like you…  _ feel  _ for me.”

“Of  _ course  _ I feel for you.”

Eiji opened his eyes. He rested his hand along the line of Shiro’s jaw.

“No. Not the way you just said it. You feel for  _ everyone _ like that. But in the Black Lion… I could hear you in my mind, and I thought, for a second…” 

He let his hand slide down to Shiro’s chest and  _ pressed  _ there, like the gesture might convey a message words couldn’t express. 

“I feel for you like  _ this, _ ” he said, kneading the heel of his hand into Shiro’s muscle. “And like  _ this _ .” He kissed Shiro’s mouth, slowly, sincerely. When he broke away, he kept his eyes closed and his forehead pressed against Shiro’s temple. “I just… I thought you were telling me that you could feel this way, too. So if you do…  _ please  _ let me…” He slid his hand down to Shiro’s stomach, letting his blunt nails catch on the fabric of his shirt.  _ “Please…” _

The ache in Shiro’s chest spread until it escaped past his lips.

_ “Eiji-” _

Eiji kissed him, even more desperately than he’d done thus far… and Shiro felt a muted throb of heat below his belly. His hips rocked forward of their own accord, seeking the pressure of Eiji's body-

Eiji grasped Shiro's hip and pressed his knee up between his thighs. 

Shiro gasped at the sudden contact, his hips grinding down to amplify the pressure. He felt another throb of heat and tension in his groin: stronger, but still muted, like being aroused inside a dream, or in the first few moments after waking. 

Even that was enough to make him feel like a human being again.

The thought struck him like a blow to the chest.

_ That  _ was why he wanted this to happen.

Eiji made him  _ feel _ things that human beings felt. 

Protectiveness.

Compassion.

Humor.

Affection.

_ Desire. _

Shiro let his tongue trace the edge of Eiji’s upper lip, then licked  _ deep  _ inside his mouth. He slid his hand down to Eiji’s lower back and  _ pressed _ , forcing Eiji against himself as he rocked his hips forward again-

_ "Mh-" _

Eiji shuddered from his shoulders to his hips; Shiro felt the throb of his dick through four layers of fabric. He focused on that- on Eiji's obvious arousal, his sincere desire. 

_ I was by myself. _

That's what Eiji had said.

He'd been tortured,  _ used _ , then set free for a sinister purpose that went against every facet of his nature.

He'd been alone in the darkness of his quarters, touching himself just to see if the rush of sex, the intimacy of physical love could ever belong to him again.

Shiro would never have to go through that, he realized… because Eiji was here.

He held tight to the solid curve of Eiji's hip and rolled his body forward… and then he kept on moving, grinding down onto Eiji's thigh, rocking his hips to feel the mound of Eiji's cock throb and swell as Eiji gasped and pressed back against him. 

“Shiro.” Kissing was getting difficult; the air between them was hot with their shallow, panting breath. “My- my monitor-”

Shiro grabbed at the black band around Eiji’s forearm, tugged it off, and tossed it onto the floor behind him.

He took hold of Eiji’s hip again and went on grinding against him, shivering at the pulses of heat that bloomed between his thighs, and the pressure in his groin that coiled tighter every time they moved together.

“You- you’re not gonna wear that in here with me,” he gritted out, his lips making contact with the corner of Eiji’s mouth.

Eiji made a noise that could’ve easily been a sob; he slipped a hand under Shiro’s shirt and flattened it against his lower back.

_ “Shiro,” _ he moaned, rutting his hips every time Shiro grinded against him.  _ “You’re… are you hard for me?” _

_ “Yeah,”  _ Shiro breathed, letting his teeth catch on Eiji’s lower lip.  _ “For you-” _

_ “Fuck-” _

_ “Nnh-” _

Shiro let his hand slide down to the curve of Eiji’s ass and held him there, grinding his swelling cock against Eiji’s rigid hardness. Eiji exhaled a groan, kneading the heel of his hand into Shiro’s lower back, and Shiro could feel tension mounting in Eiji’s body- in the  _ press  _ of his fingertips and the persistent grinding of his hips-

_ “Shiro- I- I’m-” _

_ “I know- it’s okay- it’s good- so good for me-” _

_ “Fuck-!” _

_ “Eiji-” _

Eiji let out a stifled whimper, buried his face against Shiro’s neck, and dissolved into the shuddering gasps of climax. He went on rutting against Shiro in uncoordinated thrusts, forcing his cock against Shiro’s aching hardness, and Shiro grabbed at his ass to feel even  _ more  _ of him, hovering somewhere on the edge of bliss-

_ “Gods, Shiro…”  _ Eiji moaned, right before he let his teeth scrape against Shiro’s neck…

And Shiro was lost to the deep, throbbing heat of orgasm. He came dry, his cock straining against the fabric of his undershorts, his heart thrumming wildly in his chest as muted pulses of pleasure spread from the base of his cock to the pit of his stomach, upward and out until his whole body sang with it. 

The sensations were dampened somehow, almost  _ faded  _ compared to what he’d been used to before... but he didn’t care. It had  _ happened _ . He was alive, and this was real.

He held Eiji tight with both arms, rubbing his nose into the velvet softness of his hair.

Eiji massaged his lower back, slow and steady, careful fingertips caressing bare skin.

“I… think I forgot what that was supposed to feel like,” Eiji eventually murmured, his cheek still pressed against Shiro’s face.

Shiro stroked his fingertips down the back of Eiji's neck. “So did I.”

Eiji lifted his head and looked at him. “You really came?”

“Yeah, I…” Shiro licked his lips, still dizzy from the subtle aftershocks that were pulsing up and down the lower half of his spine. “Yeah. I did.”

“Dry?”

“Yeah.”

Eiji nodded, shifting his hips in a subtle stretch. “Was for me too, at first. But… wow.” His fingertips were moving along the waistband of Shiro’s pants. “You’re doing so well, Shiro. I’m so…” He blinked, averting his gaze a bit.  _ “Happy,”  _ he finished.

Shiro put his knuckles under Eiji’s chin and tipped his head up until their eyes met.

“You are?”

Eiji nodded, his expression so open and vulnerable, it set Shiro’s heart aching all over again. Just twenty-four hours ago, Eiji's happiness had seemed like such an unattainable thing… and yet here they were, close enough that Shiro would've sworn he could  _ feel _ Eiji's trust and contentment- as if they were back in the Black Lion together, as if their minds were touching as surely as their bodies were.

He kissed Eiji's lips, softly, letting the connection linger as their breathing continued to even out.

“I am too,” Shiro murmured, barely pulling away. “Happy, I mean. Dunno what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.”

Eiji made a muffled sound that could’ve been a laugh, or a sob, or both.

“You actually mean that, don’t you?”

“Yeah. You know I do.”

Eiji kissed him - slowly, then deeply - pressing their bodies together in one more slow, lazy grind before he broke away.

“Shit… I’m gonna be a mess. Probably shouldn’t make a mess out of you, too.”

Shiro smiled, brushing a few errant strands of hair away from Eiji’s forehead. “I’ll wait for you if you want to clean up. I should probably answer Allura anyway.”

“Right. Yeah.” Eiji fiddled with the hem of Shiro’s shirt, looking like he’d rather lose another limb than get out of the bed.

Shiro could relate. 

He was still searching for something reassuring to say when Eiji finally pushed himself up, slid over his legs onto the floor, and grabbed a change of clothes from his wardrobe before shutting himself inside the bathroom.

Shiro sighed as he sat up, stealing a glance inside his undershorts to check for bodily fluids. There was a sheen of pre coating the head of his still-softening cock, which was a relief to see. It hadn’t bled through his shorts or his pants, so he decided to leave it for now. 

He tucked his legs under himself and picked up his datapad to check his messages.

Allura: I hope you’re feeling well after lunch, I’ll be in the medbay if you can spare some time to talk.

He tapped at the screen to type a quick response:

Shiro: Sorry Allura, I fell asleep. I’ll be there soon.

He set the datapad down again and lifted his arms over his head to stretch his back and shoulders, thinking about how easy it would be to curl up in bed with Eiji and go right back to sleep.

He let his hands fall into his lap and stared at them, well aware of where that desire had come from, but startled by it all the same. He’d just had almost-sex with his double - with a man who shared his face and his laugh, his history and his grief - and all he could think about was doing it again.

He wondered what someone  _ should  _ feel in a situation like this. 

Nervousness? Embarrassment? 

Disgust, even?

He didn’t feel anything like that. When Eiji stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still a mess, his expression apprehensive… Shiro felt nothing but affection.

He smiled, warm and genuine, and Eiji matched him, moving immediately forward, as if Shiro were pulling him close with some invisible force. He grabbed a container of almost-applesauce from the table as he passed, then sat down next to Shiro on the bed.

“How’s your stomach?”

“It’s good. It’s… I feel good.”

“I’m guessing you have to go soon?”

“Yeah. I’m going to meet Allura in the medbay. Shouldn’t take too long.”

Eiji nodded. “Take a couple bites for me first?”

Shiro accepted the container from Eiji and brought it to his lips. He tipped his head back to swallow a mouthful, let it settle for a moment, and then downed the rest. Eiji brought the container back to the table, swapping it for a bottle of water, and they took turns with it, sipping in a companionable silence until it was empty.

Eiji set the bottle down on the floor, and when he straightened up, he was holding his monitor in his hand.

“Since you’re leaving…”

Shiro sighed, taking it from him as they stood up together. He slid it carefully into place on Eiji’s forearm, then picked up Eiji's hand and held it.

“I meant what I said. We’ll take it off again as soon as I come back. I’m not going to let you act like there’s some reason I shouldn’t trust you.”

Eiji’s brow furrowed with emotion. He averted his gaze, staring somewhere over Shiro’s shoulder.

“Shiro?”

“Yeah?”

He cleared his throat. “Stay with me tonight.”

Shiro slid both arms around him and pulled him close. 

“I will.”

He pressed his lips to Eiji’s cheek.

Eiji sighed, nosed at his face, and then kissed his mouth.

When Shiro was finally alone in the hallway, he found himself leaning against the wall, touching the pad of his index finger to his lower lip for a long moment before he finally set off to meet Allura.

* * *

He found her sitting at the table close to the right-hand wall of the medbay, scrolling on a datapad and looking more than a little tired. She put the tablet down as he approached and gave him a small smile.

"Feeling all right, Shiro?'

He sat down close to her on the adjacent side of the table.

"Feeling really good, actually. Keeping solids down today so far."

"That's excellent news. Hunk and Pidge were asking after you."

"Did they start going over the scans of the implants?"

"They did. But they… well, they may need some cooperation from Eiji to get much further. They may have to test out the implants' functionality in real time."

"Eiji's prepared for that. He'll do whatever we need him to."

Allura sat up a little straighter, folding her hands in her lap.

"I sensed some… hesitation from you, when you and Eiji were sharing your thoughts earlier."

Shiro nodded. 

"If we had any other options right now, I wouldn't even consider this. Engaging with Haggar will be risky at best. For Eiji especially."

Allura regarded him for a moment before she answered. 

"Yes… I thought you might be concerned about his well-being. Are you concerned about anything else?"

"No," Shiro said firmly, well aware of what she was implying.

"Shiro…" She gave her head a tiny shake. "I know I told you the implants are inert, and they are. His scans are all normal,  _ identical _ to yours, but… we need to be prepared for the possibility that he could still be loyal to Haggar, regardless."

Shiro couldn't stop himself from frowning a bit.

"You weren't concerned about that before."

"No, I wasn't. Not until he suggested reestablishing his psychic link with the person who last tried to have us all killed."

Shiro shook his head. "Why would he invite Hunk and Pidge to tamper with the implants if he had some ulterior motive?"

"Maybe Haggar anticipated such an eventuality," Allura said. "Maybe it's a trap."

"No. You saw the power transfer for yourself. He's trying to help us. I  _ felt _ it, back when I was trapped inside the Black Lion, and again today."

Allura gave him a scrutinizing look.

"You've spent every moment with him since he woke up," she pointed out. "Of course, your instinct is to protect him. We all feel that way, after everything you've both been through. But… think hard, Shiro. Has he said or done anything that might be considered… manipulative?"

Shiro stared at her while heat crawled up the back of his neck, remembering how Eiji had helped him fix his hair before he'd left his quarters, his careful fingers smoothing away the evidence of what they'd done in bed together.

"No," he lied.

Allura nodded.

"Right. Well, if you're convinced, that's good enough for me. We can proceed with caution. I just felt it necessary to voice my concerns, and I hope you'll do the same if you notice anything that worries you."

"I… of course," Shiro fumbled. "But I am. Convinced, I mean."

"Good. That eases my mind a great deal."

Allura went on speaking to him, but Shiro missed whatever she said next. 

He was busy thinking about the way Eiji had pressed his face against his neck in the midst of his bliss, wondering if his judgment had become irrevocably, catastrophically compromised.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know if you're enjoying the story so far. Your feedback keeps me motivated to keep on working!
> 
> Also, I've considered drafting a sequel to this story that would bring Keith into the mix with Shiro and Eiji. If you think you might be interested in reading some sheijeith (should we coin this term?) please let me know! You can leave me a comment here or drop me a line on Twitter: @forfelurian


	8. You and I Can Be Important to Each Other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to the lovely, talented, and ever-supportive [vltr0n](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vltr0n/pseuds/vltr0n) for beta reading this chapter! I hope you enjoy it- please drop me a line and let me know if you do!

Allura took her leave shortly afterward to check in with Pidge in the engineering lab, so Shiro sat alone at the table for a while, thinking about the concerns she had raised.

He had no doubt that Eiji was genuine. He knew Eiji was  _ good _ as well as he knew his own name. But he had to admit that it was reasonable for Allura and the rest of the team to be concerned. If he endorsed Eiji’s plan, he’d be asking his team to risk their lives - the entirety of their mission - on the word of someone who’d once reported to their enemy. Someone who had personally dealt them physical and emotional damage. 

Shiro had sworn to protect them. Would they still trust him to do that if he sided with someone they already had so much reason to doubt?

He’d been in a position of divided loyalty before, and he hadn’t handled it well. He’d been singularly focused on the goal of flying to distant stars until he’d fallen in love with his best friend. Adam had given him a glimpse of the sort of future he might’ve had if he hadn’t been diagnosed with a terminal illness, and his commitment to his goal had wavered more than once as a result. Adam never knew how hard he'd struggled with the decision to go to Kerberos, or how often he'd second guessed himself once that decision had been made.

Adam never knew how badly Shiro had wanted what he was offering: stability, devotion,  _ love. _

Shiro made sure he never knew, so it would be easier for Adam to move on once things between them finally fell apart.

He'd had plenty of time to reflect on that relationship since then, ultimately promising himself he’d never stray from the commitment he'd made to Voltron. Everyone on the team had made massive sacrifices, leaving their friends and families and their personal goals and desires behind. He'd done that, too. He'd barely allowed himself to  _ think _ about physical intimacy, not only because of the potential for distraction, but also because of the massive trauma he'd been through- something he'd barely even begun to process.

It hadn't been difficult for him to brush Keith's interest in him aside- to pretend that the meaningful looks, lingering touches, and obvious, reckless devotion could be explained by the word  _ friendship _ . He’d decided that anything more than that was out of the question. He couldn't risk splitting his loyalty again. He couldn't let himself get carried away with feelings he didn't even know how to define or express.

And it wasn't just that. He had a very clear vision of the sort of future he wanted Keith to have, the sort of partner he deserved- and he decidedly did  _ not  _ fit the description. 

He'd been fully committed to setting his personal impulses and desires aside for however long it took to win this war, until he’d had to face the reality of losing his future all over again.

Until he’d parted ways with his body and woken up in a different one.

Until Eiji had come hurtling into his life.

Being with Eiji wasn’t like being with anyone else.

It was like coming back to himself, and every time they got close to each other, every synapse in his manufactured brain told him it was exactly where he was supposed to be. Eiji belonged to him like no one else ever would or could; as far as Shiro was concerned, the affection they’d shared today was as good as a commitment, and he had every intention of honoring that.

_ Or you're damaged,  _ said a voice inside his mind.  _ You're selfish and lonely, and he’s a distraction with warm hands. You’re just too weak to walk away. _

He felt a subtle tingling around the edges of his mouth, signaling the full-scale panic that could be on its way if he didn't get control of his thoughts.

He closed his eyes and counted his breaths, in and out, until he reached the number fifty.

He opened his eyes and stared down at the span of his flesh-and-blood hand, flexing and unflexing his fingers until the panic had receded enough for him to get to his feet.

* * *

He went straight back to Eiji’s quarters, only to find them empty. He tried his best to ignore the dull thud of worry he felt underneath his ribs, reminding himself that Eiji had been a panicked, traumatized mess yesterday when he’d demanded that Shiro confine him to this room. He wasn't a prisoner. He could come and go as he pleased.

Shiro took his datapad out of his pocket and checked his messages.

  
  


Eiji: Helping Hunk prep dinner in the mess hall. See you soon?  
  


He smiled, despite the darkness that had followed him back from the medbay. It was an immense relief to know Eiji had sought out Hunk’s company.

Shiro: Hunk let you near the food?

Eiji: I can hold my own with the basics these days. Come down here and I’ll let you taste something sweet.

  
  


Shiro laughed out loud.

  
  


Shiro: Are you propositioning me or offering me dessert?

Eiji: Can’t it be both?

Shiro: Hmm. Best invitation I’ve gotten in a while.

Eiji: I aim to please.

  
  


Shiro chewed his lower lip, fighting off a full-blown grin.

Shiro: We both know your aim is “perfectly exceptional.”

Eiji: Yours is even better than that… though I could give you a more detailed analysis if I can get another demonstration.  
  


Shiro felt a thrum of excitement sweep from the pit of his stomach to the back of his throat.

The last of the darkness dissipated.

  
  


Shiro: Looking forward to it.

Eiji: Yeah?

Shiro: Yeah.

He put his datapad back his pocket and left Eiji’s quarters.

* * *

Shiro heard Eiji’s rich, warm laughter drifting toward him as he moved through the rows of empty, oversized tables in the mess hall. The sound was coming through a door on the far wall, and he heard Hunk’s voice layering over Eiji’s as he got a little closer, Hunk’s unique diction and jovial tone familiar and comforting.

“...really wasn’t that bad-”

“It absolutely was! You triggered a shipwide alert-”

“Oh, like you’ve never burned toast before-”

“I really and truly  _ have not burned toast _ , Eiji.”

“Like, never in your life?”

“Like,  _ literally  _ never.”

Shiro smiled to himself as he stepped through the door and took in the laughably domestic sight before him: Hunk, chopping vegetables at a countertop, teasing Eiji while he stirred something in a pot on a nearby stovetop.

"Anyway, that was  _ one time- _ "

"One time that I caught you in the act, you mean. I saw charred bits in the trash the day after that, too."

"Damn. I knew I should've tossed them out the airlock." Eiji looked in Shiro's direction, wearing a wide, genuine smile. "Hey, Shiro."

"Shiro!" Hunk set down his knife to wave him over. "C'mere!"

Shiro joined Hunk at the counter, resting his hand briefly on Eiji's back as he passed. Hunk held up a slice of something purple for him to try; it was cool, crunchy and almost familiar-tasting when he put it in his mouth.

"Kind of like a pepper," he said, once he’d finished chewing and swallowing. "Are we having fresh food tonight?"

"Yeah! Figured we were overdue for a decent meal. And I thought you might want to try something a little more tasty than those protein bars."

"Mm. Those really aren’t so bad, but yeah. Thanks, Hunk."

"Want to thank me? Go grab me three more of these from the pantry back there." He nodded toward the smooth, purple, oval-shaped vegetables that were sitting next to his cutting board.

"Sure thing."

Shiro headed for a set of heavy-looking double doors at the back of the room and pulled one open.

"Uh…" He scanned the rows of supply-laden shelves and that formed aisles across the  _ very large _ pantry. "Want to draw me a map?"

Hunk chuckled. "Just a couple aisles down-"

"I'll show him," Eiji cut in, setting his stirring spoon down on the counter. 

He breezed past Shiro and into the pantry, moving straight down the main aisle before turning left in between two rows of shelves. Shiro followed him, trying to puzzle through some of the labels on the crates of supplies using his basic knowledge of the Galra alphabet. He turned down the same aisle Eiji had chosen and saw him standing near the end of it, holding something green and bumpy in his hand.

“Down here,” he said, tossing and catching the foreign fruit-or-vegetable once before placing it back in its crate.

Shiro kept on moving toward him, though he could’ve sworn he saw a container of the purple vegetables Hunk wanted about halfway down the aisle. He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder as he stepped close to Eiji.

“Back there, I thought I saw-”

Eiji looped his arm around Shiro’s waist and turned them both until Shiro was wedged between his body and the wall.

“No,” Eiji said, wearing a mischievous smile, holding tight to Shiro’s hip with his only hand. “This is where you want to be. I’m sure of it.”

Shiro exhaled, feeling dizzy, and not just from the way Eiji had spun him around.

“You’re right,” he admitted, examining the gold that had crept into Eiji’s irises in the amber light of the pantry.

Eiji leaned more heavily against him, thoroughly pinning him against the wall, though he let go of his hip and brought his hand up toward Shiro’s face instead. He rested his fingers just under the line of his jaw and let the pad of his thumb linger near the corner of his mouth.

“I wanted to wait for you,” he said, his expression more serious now. “But I got restless. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel, after…”

Shiro nodded. He rested his hands on Eiji's hips.

“I went right back to your quarters.”

“Yeah?” Eiji was so close, Shiro could see light reflecting off of his individual eyelashes, turning glossy black to amber bronze and back again. “What would you have done if I’d been there?”

Shiro licked his lips. 

“What would you have let me do?”

Eiji pressed their foreheads together.

“You already know.” He slid his hand down to Shiro’s chest and pressed there,  _ hard _ . “You can have anything you want from me, Shiro.”

Shiro let his eyes fall shut. It was one thing to speculate; it was quite another to hear such a declaration out loud.

"Eiji…"

_ You're mine. _

That was what he wanted to say.

He didn't, though.

"I… we… Hunk is right outside…"

Eiji nodded; it felt like a caress against his forehead.

"I'm having trouble caring about that." Eiji's lips touched his cheek, just for a moment. "Aren't you? Doesn't this feel…  _ right? _ "

Shiro made an inarticulate sound. He tightened his grip on Eiji's hips.

He knew he was  _ supposed  _ to care that Hunk could walk in here at any moment...

But he didn't.

All he cared about was the way Eiji was making him feel:

Like he could learn to belong inside this body.

Like he could bear to go on living in this too-bright, too-brutal world.

Like this moment between them was something he was  _ allowed  _ to have.

_ "It does,"  _ he whispered.

Eiji kissed his mouth.

He made a tiny sound and then returned the pressure, tilting his chin to feel their lips slide together in perfect symmetry. 

Eiji flattened him against the wall until they were pressed together from their noses to their hips to the soles of their boots, and Shiro surrendered, focusing in on the bold, unyielding pressure of Eiji’s mouth.

Eiji was  _ warm _ . His body radiated the perfect amount of heat to offset the chill of the pantry, and Shiro wanted more of it, wanted to get even  _ closer _ to it-

He slipped his hands under the hem of Eiji's shirt and ran them slowly, indulgently, over the curves and hardened muscles of his back.

_ "Yes,"  _ Eiji whispered against his lips.

Shiro pressed his tongue inside Eiji's mouth.

He tasted  _ sweet _ : tangy and light like summer melon. Shiro let go of a tiny moan as he licked along the side of Eiji's tongue, savoring the almost-familiar flavor. Eiji matched him, licking lightly at Shiro's tongue in return, running his palm over the jut of Shiro's hip-

_ "Guys?" _

Eiji broke away as Hunk's voice carried from the entrance of the pantry. He grasped Shiro's wrist and pinned it to the wall at the same time that he wedged his knee between Shiro's thighs, holding him in place. Shiro glanced frantically toward the double doors… but his view was obscured by several rows of crates, which meant that Hunk couldn't see them either.

Eiji must have known this; his smile was downright wicked.

_ "Everything okay?"  _ Hunk called.

"Fine," Eiji called back, shifting his thigh subtly where it was pressed up against Shiro's groin. Shiro bit his lower lip, realizing all at once that he was already hard, the pressure of Eiji's thigh sending a pulse of hot sensation from the base of his dick to the tip. 

"Just trying to convince Shiro to try these green melon things," Eiji went on, watching Shiro's face with predatory eyes.

_ "Oh yeah! You gotta, man! If you like ‘em I can serve some with breakfast tomorrow. Have anything you want!" _

Shiro heard one of the heavy doors swing shut, which was a blessing, since there was no way he could've answered Hunk with anything resembling a coherent thought.

Eiji shifted his thigh again, holding his gaze; Shiro let out a stifled whimper.

Eiji let go of his wrist, groped for the crate with the green, bumpy fruits inside, and pulled one out.

"The skin tastes good," he murmured, "but it's not the best part."

He took a shallow bite, peeling away some of the skin with his teeth. He chewed and swallowed, smiling like he was savoring all manor of things, and then held the exposed flesh of the fruit in front of Shiro's mouth. It was white and glistening, and Shiro had neither the will nor the desire to resist.

He opened his mouth, let Eiji press the fruit to his lips, and took a bite.

He watched Eiji's eyes as he chewed and swallowed the sweet, tangy flesh.

It tasted just like the inside of Eiji's mouth.

Eiji looked at him for a moment before he leaned in close and lapped at the juice on Shiro's upper lip.

_ "Mmh,"  _ he mumbled, shifting his knee again. He kissed Shiro's lips, tasting.

Shiro let him do as he pleased, rolling his hips to feel the hard muscle of Eiji's thigh between his legs, to get some friction on his dick-

Eiji pulled away and smiled at him.

"You're hard again?" He looked pleased, but not selfishly so. "Feels okay?"

"Feels…" Shiro shook his head a little. "Can't describe it."

"Don't try." Eiji set the fruit down on the shelf so he could lay his hand on Shiro's stomach. He let it slide down, tracing the folds of his rumpled shirt until he ran out of real estate. He hesitated, like he was giving Shiro time to object, and when he didn't, he let his fingertips move lightly over the bulge of his cock. "Just… show me later," he said, breathlessly, before he finally took a step back.

Shiro shut his eyes for a moment, more dizzy at the loss of contact than he had been with Eiji's fingertips tracing over the most sensitive part of his body. It was like he could  _ feel  _ the gravitational force of Eiji's being, like something inside him went on straining toward Eiji every time they moved away from each other.

He opened his eyes and found Eiji watching him, looking more than a little smug.

He rolled his eyes, smiling.

"You're hard too," he pointed out.

Eiji chuckled.

"You're damn right I am. What're you gonna do about it?"

Shiro pushed off of the wall and stepped close to him. He picked up the fruit and took another bite.

"Let you suffer," he over-articulated around the juicy mouthful.

Eiji shook his head, grinning. "You won't. Not for long anyway."

Shiro swallowed the bite. "You don't think I could hold out if I wanted to?"

Eiji braced his arm across Shiro's chest and forced him back against the wall again.

"I know you don't want to," he said, leaning in like he meant to kiss Shiro's mouth, stopping just short of making contact. Shiro made a strangled sound in spite of himself, caught off guard by Eiji's boldness. Eiji smiled, tilting his head in another teasing motion.

"That's what I thought," he murmured. "I'm more than happy to let you walk back out there with a hard-on."

"Mmh." Shiro somehow managed to find his voice. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Eiji let out a quiet laugh. "Do I like knowing I can get you hard?" He finally let their mouths touch together in a ghost of a kiss. "Yeah. I like it, Shiro."

_ "Fuck,"  _ Shiro muttered, right before he pulled Eiji into a deep, searching kiss. The heat between them simmered as their bodies came together in a mutual grind… and then Shiro broke away with a shudder, trying not to betray how close he'd just come to dropping to his knees.

Eiji looked more stunned than smug at this point; maybe he hadn't known Shiro could be bold, too.

Shiro handed him the fruit and set about adjusting his t-shirt, trying to ignore the throbbing heat below his belly.

Eiji leaned against the rack of shelves and took another bite, though that did nothing at all to conceal the blush in his cheeks or the mound at the front of his pants.

Shiro took a handful of slow breaths, stepped forward to leave a chaste kiss on Eiji's cheek, and then went to find the vegetables Hunk had requested in the first place.

* * *

Hunk was still chopping and humming happily to himself when they finally made their way back to the kitchen. He seemed oblivious to what had just happened between them, but Shiro only celebrated that fact for a brief moment before he felt a pang of discomfort. Sneaking around could be fun and exciting - his still-softening cock was proof enough of that - but he knew it wasn’t something he would’ve considered doing under normal circumstances. Not with his team and chosen family counting on him. Not with so much at stake. 

Their mission was as important to him as it ever was…

But Eiji was important to him like no one else ever had been before.

He brought his handful of purple vegetables over to Hunk, watching in a bit of a daze as Eiji took his place at the stove again.

"Hey!" Hunk said brightly, turning toward Shiro. "Did you try the green things? How'd they taste?"

Shiro locked eyes with Eiji over Hunk’s shoulder.

“Amazing,” he said.

* * *

Hunk didn’t mention anything about Eiji’s implants until Pidge eventually showed up in the kitchen. Shiro and Eiji were in the middle of transferring sauce, vegetables, and something resembling rice into serving dishes when she breezed through the door. She looked a little wired, which wasn’t unusual given that she was in the middle of trying to solve a seemingly impossible problem.

She stopped short when she saw Shiro spooning vegetables into a dish that Eiji was balancing on his single hand, her eyebrows traveling even further up her forehead.

“Hi!” Her voice squeaked with forced enthusiasm, which she immediately abandoned. “Okay, sorry, I knew you’d both be here... I’m just not used to seeing  _ two _ of you… anyway! How are you guys doing?”

“Fine, thanks, Pidge,” Eiji told her. “How are you?”

“Glad I managed to catch you before dinner. I just finished analyzing some of the data we’ve been collecting. We decided to compare the scans of the implants to other types of receivers and communication devices the Blades were using on this base and in their ships. We didn’t get any perfect matches, obviously, but I think we have enough data to start running some virtual tests.” She looked at Eiji. “Think we can borrow your brain in the morning?”

Eiji smirked, carefully setting his dish back down on the counter. 

“Shiro operates just fine without one… I’m sure I’ll adapt.”

Shiro gaped at him while Pidge and Hunk disintegrated into a fit of laughter, trying and failing to keep a smile from spreading across his face.

“Keep it up,” he teased, setting his pan and spoon back onto the stove. “I’ll tell Coran how much you’ve been struggling in the shower. I’m sure he’ll insist on helping you out.”

“Wow,” Eiji laughed. “Low blow, Shirogane. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Mm. You’re a terrible influence.”

“Hang on a second,” Pidge wheezed, still giggling. “When did you guys get  _ funny? _ ”

“That’s it, Pidge.” Eiji had mischief written all over his face. “Best to be encouraging. I thought the Galra might’ve cloned all the charm right out of him, but I think he’s showing signs of improvement.”

Shiro shook his head, fully grinning now. He leveled Eiji with a look that might’ve translated to  _ you’ll pay for that later on, _ savoring the fantasy of wrestling Eiji onto his back as soon as they were alone.

“Okay,  _ for the record _ ,” Hunk laughed, wiping at his eyes. “I’ve always thought you were plenty charming, Shiro.”

“I appreciate that, Hunk.”

“Who’s charming  _ who _ ?”

Shiro turned toward the door and saw Lance standing in the frame, looking more at ease than he had earlier in the day.

“Eiji’s charming everyone, apparently,” Shiro told him. “Mostly at my expense.”

“Did you know they were  _ funny _ ?” Pidge asked him, jabbing her thumb at Shiro and Eiji.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Lance teased.

“Blink and you’ll miss it,” Shiro said lightly. “Eiji’s wit sharpens enough to be useful about once a deca-phoeb.”

“Right,” Eiji teased, smirking. “And Shiro ran out of wit when he was a first year cadet, trying to date anyone with an approximation of a pulse.”

“HEY!” Shiro glared at him. “We were the  _ same person  _ back then, asshole!”

“Hang on,” Hunk cut in, looking at Shiro.  _ “Anyone?  _ I thought you only dated…”

“Men?” Eiji supplied. 

“Well… yeah.”

Shiro stared between them, trying to figure out how this conversation had spiralled out of control. He decided to place all the blame on Eiji.

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re not talking about this.”

Hunk, Pidge, and Lance struck up a chorus of protestations while Eiji raised an eyebrow at him.

“C’mon, Shiro,” he coaxed. “They’re just curious.”

Shiro rolled his eyes.

“Who are we gonna tell?” Hunk prodded. 

Shiro scowled at that.

“It’s not like it’s a  _ secret, _ ” he said, annoyed at the implication that he might be embarrassed about his orientation.

“Then why don’t you want to share?” Pidge asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Shiro’s expression softened. 

_ Good question. _

“Okay,” he finally said. “I guess it's just… not entirely straightforward. I prefer men, but I’ve been attracted to all kinds of people.”

“Like who?” Lance demanded. “Not, like,  _ princesses, _ or anything-”

_ “Lance,”  _ Pidge groaned. “We’re trying to have a moment here!”

“What?! I just don’t think Allura needs another tall, white-haired guy trying to-”

“Nope!” Shiro waved both hands at him. “Absolutely not. You- I mean,  _ Allura  _ has nothing to worry about, Lance. I swear.”

“And what about your sidekick?” Lance asked, nodding at Eiji, who shook his head, wearing a small smile.

“First of all,  _ Shiro  _ is definitely  _ my  _ sidekick. And second of all…” 

Eiji took a couple hesitant steps in Lance’s direction, leaving about a foot of space between them. Shiro felt a tug behind his navel, sensing a change in Eiji's demeanor. He had a feeling the tone of the conversation was about to shift.

“I’m not here to take anything away from any of you,” Eiji told Lance. He tilted his head in Shiro’s direction. “Shiro had a whole life before all of this, you know? But I didn’t. Not one that was actually  _ mine _ , anyway. If there really is a  _ reason  _ that the Black Lion decided to keep me here, it’s to help protect this team. You’re… you’re all I have. You’re all I’ve  _ ever _ had, so…” He shrugged a little. “I’m not gonna do anything to screw that up. Okay?”

Lance nodded seriously.

“This morning at breakfast, I shouldn’t have-”

“Forget it,” Eiji said. “I don’t need you to apologize. I don’t need you to forgive me. I’ll defend you either way.”

Lance’s lower lip trembled a bit. 

“You are kinda funny,” he managed. “I didn’t think I’d ever see someone lay into Shiro like that.”

“Mm. You should try it sometime. I’d say it’s the most fun I’ve had all day, but… well, I guess I’ve had a pretty good day.”

Shiro moved to Lance’s side and rested a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“What about you, Lance? How’s your day been?”

“Um.” Lance sniffed. “I think it’s getting better now.”

Eiji held out his hand; Lance shook it.

“Let me carry some of those,” Lance said, nodding toward the serving dishes on the counter. “You’re gonna give Hunk a heart attack if you keep moving that stuff around one-handed.”

He and Pidge each picked up a dish, and Eiji followed them out to the mess hall, pausing briefly at the door to shoot Shiro a smile.

“Wow,” Hunk said, once they were out of earshot. “Eiji seems…  _ good. _ ”

Shiro nodded. 

“It really has been a good day.”

Hunk eyed him for a minute before he said, “So… um. I like all kinds of people, too.”

Shiro turned to him and found him blushing a bit.

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

Hunk shrugged.

“We never talked about it before.”

“That… seems silly now, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. It does.”

Shiro smiled at him.

“So… anyone I know?”

“Uh. I’m not sure yet. I’ll get back to you.” Hunk cleared his throat. “What about you?”

Shiro looked toward the door and saw Eiji laughing with Pidge and Lance in the mess hall. He wondered if he’d ever be able to tell anyone how Eiji made him feel.

“I’ll have to get back to you too," he said.

* * *

The rest of the team showed up shortly afterward. Allura, Romelle, and Coran arrived as a trio, quickly followed by Keith and Krolia, who both had their Blade uniforms on and their hair tied back from their faces, presumably because they’d been training.

Shiro didn’t know that for sure, though, because he hadn’t sought Keith out at all today. He felt a pang of guilt when Keith smiled and nodded at him from across the table, realizing he should’ve checked in with him as soon as he’d had a free moment. He’d been focused on other things, some of them important, some of them worryingly trivial in the grand scheme of their circumstances. 

Keith had been through hell. He deserved to have his best friend at his disposal right now, and Shiro had been too focused on Eiji to follow through.

He brooded a bit through the rest of the meal, grateful that the topic of conversation remained relatively trivial, and that no one asked him to contribute much. He pulled Eiji to the side as soon as everyone had finished their meals and filtered into the kitchen to tidy up.

“Hey,” he murmured quietly, though no one was close enough to hear him anyway. “I think we should go see Keith after dinner.”

Eiji gave his head a tiny shake. “ _ You _ should.”

“He’ll want to see you too.”

“I know, but… another time, okay?”

All traces of Eiji’s earlier humor had vanished. Shiro could tell he didn’t want to be pushed right now.

“Eiji…  _ yes, _ it’ll be weird for me to see you spending time with Keith, okay? I admit that. But you’re really important to him, so… when you’re ready, you should.”

Eiji flexed his wrist so that their fingertips brushed together.

“I’m important to him because  _ you’re  _ important to him.”

Shiro wrapped his hand lightly around Eiji's upper arm.

“We’re all important to each other,” he said gently.

Eiji’s eyebrows drew together. 

“So go see him. I’ll wait for you, and then… you and I can be important to each other, if that’s what you want.”

Shiro’s cheeks grew warm, his head swimming pleasantly, almost as if Eiji had kissed him.

“It is what I want,” he murmured, letting his hand slide down Eiji’s arm until he was touching bare skin below the sleeve of his shirt. “I’ll see you soon?”

Eiji took hold of Shiro’s wrist. He let his thumb run lightly over the sensitive skin just below the heel of Shiro’s hand.

“Yes.”

* * *

Shiro managed to miss Keith and Krolia on their way out of the mess hall, distracted as he’d been. His communicator told him Keith was heading back toward his quarters, so he and Eiji followed, parting ways when Shiro stopped in front of Keith's door to ring the bell. A few seconds ticked by before Keith answered.

“Who is it?” His voice came through a speaker in the wall. Shiro tapped at the control panel to answer.

“It’s Shiro.”

The door slid open. Keith was there, wearing nothing but his skin-tight undersuit. His hair fell in disarray around his face, though he immediately started gathering it up again, tying it back with a length of black cloth.

“Sorry about that.” He stepped to the side to let Shiro pass. “I was about to get in the shower.”

Shiro nodded, reminding himself not to let his gaze drift below Keith's chin.

“No problem. Should I come back later?”

“Only if you mind the smell.”

“You smell fine,” Shiro blurted, immediately wishing a stray black hole would pass by to swallow him up. 

Keith only smiled, though, sitting down on the edge of his bed, looking infinitely at ease.

“What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Shiro pulled a chair away from the table and sat down. “Just wanted to check in with you. See how you’re feeling.”

“Feeling good after a legitimate workout. It’s been a while since I had access to any decent equipment.”

“No training deck on the space whale?”

“Heavy rocks. Low hanging tree branches. Cosmic wolf. That was pretty much it-”

Keith’s giant wolf materialized between them in a burst of shimmering light.

_ “Yirp!”  _ he barked, before rearing up onto Keith’s lap and licking his face.

“Hey! Hey, okay,  _ okay _ boy,” Keith laughed, looking young for a moment, despite the length of his hair and the span of his shoulders. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to call you. Thanks for stopping by, though.”

_ “Hrrf,”  _ the wolf snuffled, before he leveled Shiro with a scrutinizing look and then disappeared again.

“Um,” Shiro mumbled, a little unnerved by the intelligence he’d seen in the animal’s eyes. “Does he just  _ appear  _ every time you talk about him?”

“Kind of.”

“But… where was he? How did he  _ know? _ ”

Keith shrugged. “Pretty sure he can read my mind.”

“Oh.” Shiro tried to match Keith’s air of nonchalance. “And we’re… not concerned about that?”

“I think we’ve got bigger issues to worry about,” Keith pointed out. “Besides, I raised him. He’s… mine, you know?”

Shiro nodded. “I do know. I’m glad you had him there with you. And your mom, too. Two years is a long time."

"Felt a lot longer." Keith looked a little stiff for the first time. "It was…  _ weird _ , not seeing you for so long."

"I missed you too," Shiro found himself saying. 

Keith looked down, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "Yeah, I… yeah." He cleared his throat and looked up again. "So… I figured you probably want to chew me out for a while, huh?"

Shiro raised an eyebrow.

"For leaving the team and jumping headfirst into a wormhole? For risking your life when I was already as good as gone?"

"I didn't believe that," Keith said quietly.

"I know." Shiro stood up, suddenly restless. He moved behind the chair and grasped the back of it with both hands.

"I'd love to tell you it was the wrong choice," he said. "I'd love to tell you it wasn't worth it. But if I'd been in your position… if I thought you might've been on the other side of that wormhole, counting on me… I would've done it, too."

He paused for a moment, taking in posture of Keith's body. He was sitting perfectly still, maybe even holding his breath.

"I… well, I just figured you should know that," Shiro went on. "You're an adult. You have to live with your own choices. You did a reckless thing for the right reasons, and it paid off, and… I'll never be able to thank you enough, for giving my life back to me."

"You can try," Keith murmured, almost too quietly for Shiro to hear. He might've thought Keith was teasing, if it weren't for the blush in his cheeks, and the set of his shoulders, and the fact that he was staring intently at a spot on the far wall.

This was cruel, Shiro realized all at once. Keith  _ felt  _ for him. Keith had taken his words to heart, and he was hoping,  _ waiting _ for something Shiro couldn't give him.

"I will," Shiro said honestly. "I'll try to figure out how."

Keith met his eye then. He nodded.

"I'll be here."

* * *

Shiro walked back to Eiji's quarters in a daze, wrestling with several conflicting emotions. He felt immense guilt for the way he'd handled that conversation with Keith… but the closer he got to Eiji's door, the more that guilt was overshadowed by excitement and anticipation. 

He breezed right by his own quarters; he hadn't even set foot inside them yet, and he found that he had no desire to do so.

He stopped in front of Eiji's door and tapped the panel to let himself in, not even bothering to announce himself first.

He stepped inside, noticing immediately that Eiji wasn't in the living space. He heard the shower running in the bathroom, and a lump of nervous excitement lodged itself firmly at the back of his throat.

He walked into the bathroom and saw Eiji over the wall of the stone enclosure, facing away from him, rinsing his hair under the spray of the shower.

He moved to the opening of the enclosure and took in the length of Eiji's naked body, feeling hot all over, feeling like all the air had gone out of the room. Eiji was wet from head to toe, his hair matted to his forehead, his bicep flexing from the way he'd braced his hand against the wall. His sculpted torso gave way to a narrow waist, toned backside and powerful thighs. He was covered in scars, and Shiro knew the story behind each and every one.

He wanted to put his mouth on all of them.

He stared shamelessly until Eiji finally looked at him…

…and then he pulled off his shirt, kicked off his boots, and pushed down his pants and undershorts until they fell to the floor.

He stepped into the shower.


	9. This Pull Between Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might've extended this if I had more time to write these days, but I feel like this section stands fairly well on its own, and I was dying to share it with you all. Please let me know if you enjoy it!

Eiji straightened up as Shiro approached him, and the look on his face made Shiro pause and leave a couple feet of space between them, even though all he wanted to do was crash right into him and pin him to the wall. 

Eiji looked more than a little stunned. His eyes went wide as he looked Shiro up and down, his fingers flexing and unflexing in a slow, nervous rhythm.

_ “Wow,” _he breathed. “You’re… here.”

Shiro tilted his head to one side.

“You thought I wouldn’t come?”

“I… uhm. I might've let my thoughts run away with me while I was alone.”

Shiro stepped close to him. He raised a hand to Eiji’s face, but Eiji caught it before he could touch his cheek. Shiro searched his eyes, wondering what had changed since earlier that afternoon.

“What’s wrong?” He squeezed Eiji’s hand. “Is it because I was with Keith?”

Eiji gave a subtle nod.

“But… he and I just talked. You know it isn’t like that between us-”

“I do know.” Eiji's voice was quiet. “But it would be a good thing for you if things were like that. I know I got caught up with you… I know I’ve already crossed so many lines… and I’m glad. I’d never take it back. But I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t want to be part of the reason you’re avoiding something you really want.”

Shiro felt a faultline in his heart start to fracture.

He stepped into Eiji’s space, pulling his hand from Eiji’s grasp. 

He rested his palm on Eiji’s bare chest.

“You think I’d be here like this if I didn’t want _ you _? Can’t you tell that I do?”

Eiji’s eyebrows drew together. He and Shiro watched each other while water from the shower beat down on the stone floor, warm like summer rain as it pooled and flowed around their feet.

“Shiro… can you tell me why?”

Shiro felt a sweep of dizziness. He’d almost forgotten how vulnerable this person was. Eiji had hidden his fear and insecurity well today, keeping them buried underneath his innate charm and tendency toward perseverance. It hadn’t been an act, but that didn’t mean Eiji had been cured of the trauma he’d suffered.

Neither of them had been.

Eiji had no idea what he was worth, and Shiro was the only one trying to show him.

He thought of the way Eiji’s heartbeat had lulled him to sleep in the middle of the night, and the way Eiji had scaled the hull of the Black Lion one-armed without betraying a hint of difficulty or discomfort. He thought of the way their lips had pressed together for the first time, as if it had been an inevitability, as if that soft, careful touch had brought them back to their natural state of being.

He moved his hand to touch gently along the sharp line of Eiji's jaw. Eiji didn’t stop him this time.

“When I look at you,” Shiro said, trying to bring himself back to the moment of clarity he’d experienced in the hangar, “I see the kind of person I always hoped I’d be. You know how terrified I was of losing my hand or my arm. You know how hard I worked to be able to see myself overcoming that. I…” He had to pause and clear his throat. He could see his own emotions mirrored in Eiji’s expression, and it made him wonder if they truly were still joined in some essential way, sharing thoughts and feelings without even meaning to. 

“I admire you,” he finally said. “And I’m… _ safe _ , with you. It was torture, being trapped without my body, watching horrible things happen to the people I love _ . _I don’t think I’d had a moment’s peace since before Kerberos, until last night-”

He had to stop then, because Eiji was kissing him. 

Eiji's lips were warm and eager in a way that made Shiro crave more heat, more contact- so he slid both arms around him and held him close, tracing the familiar scars on his back with the tips of his fingers. He walked Eiji backward until they were both underneath the warmth of the running water, and he sighed as Eiji’s hand made contact with his forehead, as careful, soothing fingers pushed his hair back from his eyes. 

Their lips moved in perfect synchrony. Searching hands moved over bare skin. 

Shiro walked Eiji back one more time, until he had him pressed tight against the stone wall.

He thought about what he might want from Eiji, to feel secure and reassured if their positions were reversed. He settled on another private fantasy, something he'd always wanted and never actually experienced. 

He slid his hands down and around the backs of Eiji's thighs.

He lifted up under one of them, pulling Eiji's knee up over his hip.

Eiji broke away from his lips, his black lashes blinking, his breath coming in shallow bursts.

Shiro moved his hand slowly along the back of Eiji’s thigh.

“But- _ wait- _”

Shiro paused.

"You don't want me to?"

Eiji let out a quiet, incredulous laugh.

"It's not that.”

Shiro leaned some more of his weight against Eiji’s body.

“Tell me?”

“I… you…” Eiji cleared his throat. It was endlessly endearing, how flustered he was in this moment. He’d been the very embodiment of cool confidence earlier today, but right now he reminded Shiro of a younger version of himself- unsure and stammering, maybe even a little shy.

Shiro didn’t mind. He knew how to take the lead when someone needed him to.

He knew how to be what Eiji needed.

He pressed his lips underneath Eiji’s ear.

_ “You can tell me anything,” _he murmured, mouthing at Eiji’s warm skin.

_ “Shiro.” _ Eiji nuzzled back against his cheek. “It’s just that you keep… doing all these things for me. I shouldn’t let you. _ I _ should be the one… there’s already no way I could make it all up to you-” 

He made an inarticulate sound as Shiro sucked lightly at the soft skin near the base of his throat.

“You don’t owe me, Ei.” Shiro straightened up so they could look at each other. “I told you what you mean to me.”

“You didn’t, though. Not really.”

_ Oh. _

It was true. Shiro hadn’t actually spelled it out.

And of course, Eiji needed him to. Of course, he needed to hear it, before they crossed anymore lines together.

“You can feel it,” Shiro told him, as certain about this as he'd ever been about anything. “This _ pull _ between us. You know it’s real, right? It’s physical. You’re not a _ copy, _ Eiji. You’re not a shadow. You’re part of me. You’re… _ mine. _”

Eiji’s lower lip trembled, almost imperceptibly.

“And you want me to be?”

Shiro pressed their foreheads together. 

“That’s what I’m trying to show you, yeah.”

Eiji's shaky breath warmed Shiro’s lips.

"Promise me you won't regret it. You'd know by now, right? After today, and last night-"

_ "I won't regret it," _Shiro promised, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

He meant every syllable too, and not just because every nerve ending in his body was crackling with electric _ need _, sparking to life at the feeling of Eiji’s naked body pressed up against his own.

It was because Eiji deserved to feel like he belonged somewhere.

He deserved to feel the way Shiro felt every time they touched.

"I won't," Shiro said again, his voice wavering as Eiji finally, _finally _secured his arm around his neck.

_ "I believe you," _Eiji whispered.

Shiro _ felt _Eiji's hesitation vanish just then, as surely as he felt Eiji's mouth collide with his own in a forceful kiss. That impression stuck with him as he tilted his chin in answer- the feeling of empathy, except amplified, as if he'd caught an echo of Eiji's inner workings. It was like recognizing a phrase of a favorite song, half-heard across a distance in a crowded, lively place, so faint that you weren't quite sure if you'd heard it at all.

Shiro thought of his favorite songs, of music and summer rain, as he opened his mouth for Eiji's tongue.

He grasped under Eiji’s thighs and lifted him off the floor.

He rolled his hips forward, pressing Eiji against the wall, letting himself feel the hardened length of Eiji’s cock sliding up the plane of his stomach.

_ “Mh- _ Shiro.. _ .” _Eiji’s eyes were rimmed with gold in the amber light. “Come to bed with me.”

Shiro exhaled a ghost of a laugh.

"I think _ you're _ going to come to bed with _ me _."

"Yeah?" There was laughter in Eiji's voice again. "You gonna put me there?"

"Gonna try." Shiro stepped away from the wall, carrying Eiji with him. "You gonna let me?"

Eiji _ did _ laugh. His body shook with it as he secured his legs around Shiro’s waist.

"Yeah. I am."

…

They left a trail of water behind them as Shiro stumbled out of the bathroom. He bumped clumsily into the doorframe- unsurprisingly, since Eiji was kissing his mouth, and their eyes were closed. They laughed together as Shiro righted himself, giggling right up until Shiro dropped Eiji onto the mattress and climbed on top of him.

He hesitated for a moment, then, taking in Eiji’s wide, open-mouthed smile.

He rested the back of his prosthetic hand on Eiji's shoulder and caressed his way down to the black band that held his monitor in place. 

He pulled it off and tossed it onto the floor.

He found Eiji’s wrist, pinned it to the mattress next to his head, and kissed him.

It was the messiest kiss they'd shared so far, a perfect reflection of their combined desperation. It was fast-paced and _ hard _ , a give and take of heat and pressure, of exhaled breath and dragging lips. Shiro felt the urge to _ hold on tight _, though there was nothing to grab onto… except for Eiji's naked body.

He dug his thumb into the tender part of Eiji’s wrist and _ squeezed _.

_ “Shiro-” _

He curled his other arm around Eiji’s head, well aware that it was a gesture of protectiveness. He was fully committed to making Eiji feel safe in this moment. He knew what it meant for Eiji to undress for him, to let him kiss and touch, to speak intimate words and tell him secrets. And they did have secrets the other couldn't guess, Shiro knew. He was sure Eiji had had no idea how badly Shiro wanted him like this, up until this moment.

It had to be obvious now, after everything he’d said. And if that hadn’t been enough to convince Eiji they were on the same page, Shiro hoped the fact that his rigid cock was leaking pre all over Eiji’s stomach might make up the difference.

“Gods, _ Shiro-” _

"Want to touch you," Shiro breathed, grinding his hips down against Eiji's body, feeling heat bloom and spread between his own thighs.

Eiji secured his leg around Shiro’s hip and rolled them over so they were face-to-face, chest-to-chest on their sides. Shiro grinned, enjoying the show of strength, even more so when Eiji’s knee forced its way between his thighs in a slow, deliberate grind.

“Go ahead,” Eiji prompted, shifting his hips so that the head of his cock dragged along Shiro’s shaft. “Touch me.”

Shiro did.

He splayed his hand over Eiji’s lower back and _ pressed _, forcing their bodies together.

He kissed Eiji’s mouth, hard and biting.

He moved his hand down onto Eiji's backside and _ grasped _, moaning as toned muscle and soft flesh gave way to the strength of his hand.

Eiji broke away with a stinging bite to his lower lip, nodding his encouragement. He put his hand on Shiro’s side, then moved his thumb firmly down the inside ridge of Shiro's hip bone while they watched each other's eyes, while Shiro's breath caught sharply in his throat.

He'd never been touched there quite like that.

He'd tried it himself. He’d known it must be sensitive there. But his own fingertips hadn't felt like _ this. _

He let out a quiet, breathy groan.

Eiji's mouth turned up in a predatory smile.

"Thought so," he murmured, touching and massaging with his thumb while Shiro leaned into the sensation, kneading into Eiji's backside.

"Yeah?" Shiro prompted, wondering how that single point of contact could feel so intense. "What else have you thought about?"

Eiji moved his hand lower.

He caressed the shaft of Shiro's dick with his knuckles before wrapping his fingers around it, practiced and confident, as if he'd done it a million times before. Shiro's eyelids fluttered as the pad of Eiji's thumb stroked over his head, his hips responding of their own accord with a subtle roll, his body straining toward Eiji as if the force of gravity itself had decided they weren't yet close enough.

"This," Eiji breathed, thumbing through the run of pre that was coating Shiro's head. "Couldn't wait to find out if you'd get wet for me." He moved his thumb down, spreading slick all around the rim of Shiro's head. "You're… _ wow. _"

"And you?" Shiro exhaled, running his hand up and down the curve of Eiji's ass before kneading into a new spot. He would've had Eiji's cock in his hand already, but he was waiting for confirmation.

Waiting to be invited.

"See for yourself," Eiji said, sliding his knee further forward between Shiro’s thighs so that his legs were spread wide.

Shiro let out a weighty exhale. That was about as obvious an invitation as he could've asked for, and it wasn't the one he'd been expecting.

He ran two fingers down the cleft of Eiji's ass and touched lightly over his hole.

Eiji nodded, his expression almost pleading.

Shiro licked his lips.

He pressed there again, touching carefully, feeling supple, puckered skin… coated with something thick and smooth.

"I… found something in the first aid kit," Eiji said, still holding Shiro's cock lightly in the circle of his grip. "I looked it up in the database, just to make sure it was safe… spent about two minutes testing it out before I… _ oh... _"

Eiji's eyes fell closed as Shiro teased the tip of one finger just inside the tight ring of his hole.

"You got worried? Talked yourself out of it?" Eiji nodded. "Sorry I wasn't here, Ei. I'm here now, okay?"

"I thought- _mh-_ _yeah… like that…"_

Shiro watched the sensations register in Eiji's expression as he pressed his finger further inside.

"You thought what?"

"...Thought it might feel better for you, if we… I mean, you'd have more control, if you wanted to…"

Eiji paused again; Shiro's middle finger was all the way inside him.

Shiro kissed his lips.

"This okay?"

Eiji opened his eyes.

_ "Yes." _

Shiro pulsed his finger, massaging the smooth, slick heat of Eiji's insides in a gentle rhythm. Eiji sighed and nodded and rolled his shoulders, moving his hips at a slow, complimentary pace.

"Is it like the first time?" Shiro asked, well aware that Eiji’s body had never been touched this way before.

"In almost every way." Eiji stroked slowly up Shiro's length, squeezing carefully over his head. "For you?"

_ "Mh." _Shiro shivered at the sweep of pleasure- still muted, but lovely and perfect all the same. "Yeah. For me too."

Eiji stroked again, settling into a slow, cautious pace that perfectly matched the movement of Shiro's finger.

_ "Good." _

His voice had an edge to it. Shiro's dick throbbed in his hold, and Eiji nodded to him, leaving brief, soft kisses on his lips and his face.

_ “That’s it, Shiro. Gonna take care of you-” _

_ “Nhh-” _

Shiro shivered again, breathing shallow through a wave of mounting sensitivity. This felt _ good. _Almost like he remembered it. Maybe even better, because of how badly he needed it, and how deeply he trusted the person who was touching him.

_ “Yes,” _ Eiji breathed, smiling at the sounds that were falling out of Shiro’s mouth. _ “Want to hear you-” _

_ “You too-” _

_ “Come inside me, then-” _

Shiro kissed him. He licked into his open mouth while stars exploded behind his closed eyelids, leaning into the moment with an exaggerated sweep of his tongue. Eiji was _ tight _, his body hot and throbbing around Shiro’s searching finger, but Shiro recognized this urgency. Neither of them wanted to wait. They wanted to do this together.

And they already had, Shiro realized. The first time he’d touched himself in the shower in his grandparents’ apartment, his soap-slick fingers exploring, his mind opening up to all the things his body could do, Eiji had been there. 

The first time he’d been kissed by a boy he liked - someone taller and older, someone with big, strong hands that had touched him over his clothes and then under them while summer stars and fireflies burned bright all around them - Eiji had been there. They’d crossed that line together, shaking apart in that boy’s arms. They’d breathed in that euphoria with a single set of lungs.

They’d lain naked together in Adam’s bunk at the Garrison, learning what it was like to be loved. Learning what it was like to be penetrated and _ changed _by that pure, sweet intention.

They’d traveled this road together from the very beginning, and coming together now, like this, was as easy as drawing in a breath of fresh mountain air.

Shiro pulled his finger free and moved Eiji onto his back.

He knelt between his thighs and kissed him softly.

_ “I want to-” _

_ “-see your face,” _they whispered to each other, with barely an inch of space between them...

A painful inch that Shiro couldn’t bear.

His fingers were tangled in Eiji’s hair when he took himself in hand and breached the tightness of Eiji’s outer rim.

Their cheeks and lips and blinking lashes brushed together as they sighed and breathed in each other’s sounds.

They didn’t speak as Shiro worked his way carefully inside, because they didn’t have to. Shiro knew how slow to move, knew every aching facet of the tender stretch his lover felt. He knew when to stop and wait and cover Eiji’s neck in soft, lingering kisses. He knew how to rub the heel of his hand into Eiji’s hip to ease the burning pleasure-pain of being _ filled _.

He knew when Eiji wanted more, wanted him _ deep _, though he was glad when Eiji whispered the words all the same.

_ “Shiro.” _ Eiji’s hand was warm and strong on the back of his neck. _ “Please.” _

They shared a quiet, shivering groan as Shiro bottomed out… and when the tip of Eiji's index finger came to rest under the line of Shiro's jaw, over his thrumming pulse point, he started to move.

Eiji made a sound like begging.

_ "Ei-" _

_ "Yes- slow, but- don't stop-" _

Shiro let out a breath, allowing himself to _ feel _ now that he knew he hadn't caused Eiji any pain. Eiji was _ tight, _ so he opted to stay buried deep, moving his hips in a slow, subtle roll, acclimating to the relentless pressure that was surrounding him, _ holding _him, waking his body up-

_ "Oh," _ he breathed letting his forehead rest against Eiji's temple. _ "Oh, God…" _

Eiji's lips were warm and soft, moving along his cheek.

_ "Good? Need it to be good for you, Shiro-" _

_ "God, yes… And you? Are you okay?" _

Eiji kissed him in answer, pulling him close with a firm hand around the back of his head. Shiro sighed between the meeting of their lips, rocking into him slow and steady, and even though he could sense tension in Eiji's frame, he knew this was what Eiji wanted.

It was what he would've wanted too, if their positions had been reversed: to be taken and held by someone he trusted. To feel every inch of almost-pain and penetrating pleasure that came with this most intimate act. To be reminded of what he could withstand, and of what could be waiting for him at the end of this war, if he could live long enough to see it.

He _ did _ want all of those things, and he'd take anything Eiji was willing to give him.

_ "Shiro." _ Eiji's voice broke on the second syllable. _ "More." _

Shiro pulled his hips back and _ thrusted… _and molten pleasure exploded up his spine. 

He trembled, just for a moment, just long enough for Eiji to notice it and answer it with a keening, soothing sound.

_ "Yes, fuck- just like that, Shiro, I- I need-" _

The pitch of his voice rose into a whimper as Shiro found a new rhythm, his hips moving at a rolling, deepening pace.

_ "What do you need?" _ he managed, finding Eiji's eyes through a haze of rediscovered passion. _ "Tell me, Ei-" _

_ "...Need a name for you," _ Eiji groaned, locking his legs tight around Shiro's waist, moving his hips to amplify their connection. _ "When we're like this… what do I call you?" _

Shiro pressed their faces together. His smile drew a path across Eiji's cheek.

_ "Anything you want, Ei-" _

_ "Taka." _ The name fell from Eiji's lips like it had been desperate to escape. And then, much more quietly: _ "Baby." _

Shiro made a shaky, whimpering sound. Tension coiled suddenly within him, as if the terms of endearment had turned a peg inside him and wound him like a string on a guitar. He felt his body warming from the inside out, felt the sweetest sort of pressure building at the base of his spine-

_ "Yeah," _ he forced out, moving a hand between them to wrap his fingers around Eiji's cock. _ "Call me 'baby-'" _

Eiji groaned; Shiro stroked him slick with his own pre.

_ "Baby- I won't last-" _

_ "Don't need you to last- need you to come-" _

_ "Fuck- faster- more, I can take it-" _

Shiro didn't hesitate. He pushed himself up just enough to get a better angle and a better view, and then he rutted hard and deep, letting the motion of his hips guide the thrusting of his hand over Eiji's throbbing shaft and purpling head-

_ "Taka-" _

Eiji's eyes were open, just barely, just enough for Shiro to see the stormcloud silver of them. His face was pink underneath the pale lines of his scar, his cheeks darkening deeper toward crimson with every shallow exhaled breath. The color had found its way down the curve of his neck and into the hollow of his throat, which became more exposed with every passing second as his chin tipped up toward the ceiling- as his body tensed and trembled with all the signs of imminent release.

Shiro knew these signs. He knew them by heart, because they were the same as his own.

Shiro knew Eiji by heart.

He drove his hips forward, and Eiji keened, high and broken. Shiro's whole body sang with pumping adrenaline and the mounting, coiling expectation of bliss. He may as well have been piloting a jet, using his hands and his will to make magic in the sky, breaking away from the gravity of mourning and tragedy and loss.

_ "Yes," _ he exhaled, staring down at the person who belonged to him like no one else ever had, urging him to feel that same soul-affirming rush of freedom. _ "C'mon, Eiji- come for me-" _

Eiji let out an unrestrained cry, arching his spine as the tension in him finally snapped. Shiro felt the spasming thrill of it against his palm and fingers, along with the thick, flowing heat of Eiji's release, and he let out a nearly identical sound as the crushing pressure of Eiji's body finally overtook him. He came, trembling, while Eiji's fingertips dug into the back of his neck- while Eiji's dark, damp lashes fluttered fast-and-then-slow and then stilled.

Their twin gazes locked into place and held.

Their chests rose and fell in tandem; their pounding hearts spoke a mirrored rhythm.

Shiro saw nothing but beauty in the face of the person below him… and in that moment, the notion meant more to him than flying, or leading Voltron, or finding a way home, or anything else he’d ever wanted or dreamed of. It meant more to him than all of those things because he and Eiji had been one and the same, and if Eiji was beautiful in this moment, after everything he’d been through-

_ “Taka,” _ Eiji soothed. _ “You’re perfect.” _

Shiro kissed him, though he did a messy job of it, because laughter kept bursting to life inside his abdomen and escaping through his mouth. Eiji laughed too, smiling into the press of Shiro’s mouth, and when one of Shiro’s tears eventually splashed onto his cheek, neither of them noticed.

  



End file.
